Free Nightingale by Jennifer Estep

you’re throwing around!”
    “Oh, Wren. It’s just you.” Talon yawned. “What do you want? Is something wrong?”
    “You were snoring,” I accused, trying to ignore how hot his body felt against mine. He was a hundred times warmer than my microfleece sheets could ever be.
    “Oh. Sorry. Did I wake you?”
    I gritted my teeth. “You might say that.”  
    Talon didn’t let me up, though, and he didn’t move away. We lay there on the bed, like a couple caught in the throes of passion—his thigh wedged between mine, his elbows just scraping the sides of my breasts. Talon’s breath puffed against my face. He smelled of mint. How could the man have minty-fresh breath at five in the morning? Somehow, he did.  
    I couldn’t see Talon’s eyes behind the visor, but another part of him grew rather active against my thigh. Another loud thump-thump-thump caught my attention, and I realized it was his heart. Racing—just like mine.
    For a moment, I thought of raising my lips to his, of indulging in this unexpected attraction I felt for the superhero, of being reckless and carefree and having what I wanted. Lust at first sight wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? The people in Slaves for Superhero Sex had all sorts of sexcapades with the city’s heroes and villains. College kids had one-night stands like they were going out of style. Bigtime’s finest businessmen and women bed-hopped like it was an Olympic sport. Surely, one little kiss couldn’t hurt—
    Talon shifted his weight, breaking the lustful fog that had settled over me.
    No — no, Abby , I chastised myself. Bad, bad idea. He’d been shot a couple of hours earlier. I wasn’t going to take advantage of a wounded man, no matter how much my body screamed at me to do it. Besides, lust at first sight only led to early-morning regrets.
    “Um, do you want to let me up, please?” I asked.
    He let out another breath. “Of course.”
    Talon rolled away, taking the long, hard warmth of his body with him. I scrambled off the bed and hustled back to the couch.
    “I’ll try to keep the snoring to a minimum,” Talon called out in a husky tone.
    “I’d appreciate that,” I replied, diving into my cocoon of cooling sheets.
    “Wake me if it bothers you again.”
    “Sure,” I said, even though I had no intention of getting within five feet of him for the rest of the night. I didn’t trust myself—not now.
    We lay there in silence. After about thirty minutes, Talon drifted back to sleep, but it was a long time before I followed, and Talon’s snoring didn’t have anything to do with it.
    Well, not that much.
    #
    I woke up a few hours later. I didn’t feel a hundred percent recharged but good enough to face the day and whatever it had in store—superheroes included.  
    I threw back the sheets and padded over to the windows. Talon was still asleep, but thankfully, not snoring now. I stared at him. The superhero had turned onto his right side, with his arm curled under his head. I didn’t see any blood seeping through the bandages on his left shoulder. My nose twitched. I didn’t smell any either. The G-man superhero was tough, even if he didn’t have a power to help him battle evil and fight crime.
    He looked so sexy sleeping that I reached out a hand, longing to brush the chestnut hair off his forehead, to see if it was as soft and silky as it looked. But I curled my fingers into a fist. Touching the superhero was a bad, bad idea. Besides, I didn’t want to get shocked by his damn visor again.
    So I walked over to the windows, threw back the drapes—  
    And immediately closed them. The sun bounced off a thick layer of snow so white it pierced my eyes with its dazzling brilliance. I groaned, trying to ignore the migraine that popped to life inside my skull. In addition to loud noises, unexpected bright lights made my head ache.
    “Wren?” Talon asked, stirring on the bed. “What’s going on?”
    “Nothing,” I replied, peeking out through a crack in