Avara POV
My fingers filter through his velour-soft strands.
Botan lies between my legs, his head resting on my chest, fast asleep. He must've been more exhausted than he comprehended. I suppose a man like him can't afford the vulnerability of being off his guard. My eyes trace over his back muscles that are like a master craftsman chiseled each defined bulge and sinew with intricate perfection. His heft anchors me to the bed, unable to move an inch, and I don't want to. Besides not wanting to wake him, I like the feel, the pressure of him on me, the skin-to-skin of our half-bare bodies entwined.
My mind replays our most intimate, unquenchable moments, even though we didn't go all the way there. He knows I'm still a virgin and he honored my stance, nevertheless, he exercised extraordinary restraint.
A phone shrieks. Botan jerks awake.
My heart wilts.