The next morning, at dawn.
Camilla woke up early to prepare breakfast before immediately heading to the master bedroom.
On the bed lay a man with strikingly handsome features, his eyes still closed, his wrists restrained on either side just as they had been the night before.
Camilla's long, thick lashes fluttered slightly, her eyes brimming with tenderness.
If not for the overwhelming difference in their strength, she would never have resorted to restraining Sinclair like this.
Moving quietly, she undid the leather cuffs and set them aside—completely unaware of the subtle differences from the pair she had used the night before.
When she looked up again, she met the man's deep, alert obsidian eyes.
"Sweetheart, you're awake!"
Camilla's beautiful eyes curved into crescents as she smiled sweetly.
"I made breakfast for you.
Let's eat."
"Breakfast can wait," Sinclair murmured, pulling her into his arms.
"Right now, I'd rather have Camilla."
