" Are we napping?” she asked.

“For a little,” he said.

He wasn’t napping. He concentrated every cell of his body on memorizing the weight of her against him, and the smell of her hair in the sun. His arms measured the slender curve of her torso. His fingers separated out a single strand of her hair. Her breathing slowed, easing, while his watchful heart chugged on, stupid and hungry, and the red bracelet stayed in his pocket. "

― Caragh M. O'Brien , Ruled (Birthmarked, #2.5)