I wake up to the morning sun beaming through the snow-frosted window of our room, rays of light fanning across the white bedspread. The sun shone brightly in the sky, uncovered for the first time since my arrival here. The aching in my body sends memories of last night flooding through me, emphasized by the muscular arms still wrapped around me and holding me tightly against his hard, powerful body. I look up to find Connor still peacefully sleeping, his face calm and smooth, his hair fanning over his eyebrows. A portrait of perfection and beauty. Of lethal, unyielding strength that could either be deadly and brutal or gentle and passionate. A pleasant treasure of a fact that I was so adamantly taught over and over again until the knowledge had been ingrained into my very being.