I see Lucas come back from the bathroom, and I grinned like an idiot to see him only wearing his boxer. He lies next to me on the bed, accommodates me in his arms, making me rest my head on his chest, and then kiss my hair; I hear him sigh "my shirt fits you much better than it does me," he comments. With his fingers, he undoes the first button.

"What are you doing?" I ask between laughs.

"Enjoying the view," he explains with a voice so sensual that it can melt the poles' ice.