It wasn’t so much that there were a lot of pillows in the room; the room was pillows. Caron stared at it for a moment. He’d never seen so many pillows. He’d never seen such a plush room, such a…

“It’s fluffy.”

“Well, yeah.” Areta peeked at him through long eyelashes. “I’m not sure what you’d have expected from me that wasn’t.”

“Something elegant, I suppose.” The words tripped off his tongue before he could stop them. “I mean….”

“I’m not going to object to you calling me elegant.” She offered him her hand, fingers tipped downward. Caron took the reprieve and stepped into her… nest.

And was immediately pulled on to the floor with a yank he hadn’t expected out of elegant, delicate Areta.

He fell hard, but the floor caught him easily, enveloping him like a hug. She was grinning when he came up, already moving to straddle him.

“See? That’s why it’s fluffy.”

He stroked her hip through her robe. “I see.” Or he might soon see, at least.

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