Abigail
"Has anyone seen Mr. Buttons, my teddy bear?" Angel’s screams rang through the house. "Anyone? This is a code red! I repeat, this is a code red!"
"Angel, it’s six in the freaking morning, go back to sleep!" River screamed back.
I burrowed deeper into the warmth behind me, pulling the duvet over my head. Finnegan’s arm tightened around my waist, his bare chest pressed flush against my back.
The morning light filtered through the curtains. It would take all the Greek gods to pull me away from this comfort.
"Abigail!" Angel called somewhere downstairs. "Gramps took my suitcase! I think he’s trying to pack himself inside it! And I can’t find my little teddy bear."
"Tell her Mr. Buttons is in the kitchen,"
Finnegan mumbled against my neck, his voice gravelly with sleep. "She left him in the fruit bowl yesterday."
I laughed, turning to face him. "Good morning,"
His chest rumbled, and he opened his eyes, gazing tenderly at me. I traced my fingers over his chest, breathing in his scent.
"We should probably get up," he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "We should be packing."
"I don’t feel like getting up," I whined.
Morning Finnegan was a sight worth savoring. His hair was mussed. There was a shadow of a beard along his sexy, sharp jaw.
"That’s too bad, because Angel is very excited." He rolled with me, propping himself on one elbow, the sheet sliding down to reveal the hard planes of his abdomen. "It’s the first real vacation in... well, ever."
"Exactly." I reached up, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone. "So we should sleep in."
His eyes glinted with the mischief that always preceded trouble. I was pinned beneath him, his hands bracketing my head, his hips between my thighs.
"Well, well," he murmured, his mouth hovering inches from mine. "Look at you. You’ve gone soft. I thought you were the epitome of punctuality."
I arched an eyebrow. "I’ve gone soft? You—" I shifted my hips, feeling his cock swell hard and ready against me, and smirked. "I could say the same about you, Mr. Wolfe."
He laughed and dipped his head to capture my lips in a kiss. I melted into him, my hands finding his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer-
Nausea hit my gut. I swallowed hard, breaking the kiss, turning my head toward the window as my stomach lurched.
No. Not now. I couldn’t possibly be sick!
"Abigail?" Finnegan pulled back, eyes flickering with concern.
"I’m fine," I grumbled, forcing a smile. "Maybe I just got up too fast."
He didn’t look convinced, but I pulled him down again, sealing my mouth to his, willing the sickness away with the heat of his body against mine. It worked, for a while.
"There," I whispered against his lips. "See? I’m fine-"
The nausea returned, stronger this time. I tapped his shoulder urgently, my eyes widening.

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