Amanda Smith was slim and petite, and holding her in his arms felt delicate to the point of fragility, yet her scent was always pleasing to him. He leaned his head in like a puppy and sniffed, then abruptly withdrew, only to realize he had embraced her with both arms and legs. With pronounced disdain, he let her go.
Feeling the absence of her warmth in his arms, he found it oddly unsettling, and he frowned, quite taken aback by his own reaction.
Opposite him, the woman who had kept her eyes closed and brows furrowed slowly opened her eyes.
She seemed to have had a restless sleep, and when she opened her eyes, her brows were still knitted together. Seeing Samuel Johnson across from her, Amanda Smith froze.
"You..."
"Why are you in my bed?"
Samuel Johnson beat her to it, demanding with a righteous indignation.
"..." Amanda Smith silently sat up from the bed.