What a blissful night it had been.
A satisfied sigh escaped my lips as I slowly opened my eyes, greeted by the familiar sight of my room ceiling. The warmth lingering beside me was comforting, yet the source of that warmth was nowhere to be found. I stretched out my hand, fingers grazing the empty sheets, still faintly heated from where she had been.
Tilting my head to the side, I caught the soft sound of something ruffling. My eyes landed on Layla, who was already awake, seated elegantly on a chair near the window. Her long legs were crossed, one foot idly bouncing, as she held an open book in her hands.
"You slept like a baby, honey," she said with a teasing smile when she saw me awake.
I blinked at her, momentarily distracted. She was wearing nothing but my shirt—one of my oversized ones that draped loosely over her frame, barely covering her thighs. The way the fabric hung off her shoulders, exposing the delicate curve of her collarbone.
Damn.
