Refusing to let herself be unsettled by a mere dream, Frida took a quick shower. But the thought struck her again, and she ran out of the bathroom in only a towel, fear gripping her chest. Something might have happened to Laz.
She sprinted downstairs, searching every corner of the absurdly large Airbnb. He was nowhere to be found. Taking deep breaths to steady herself, she grabbed her phone and called him.
"Hey, good morning," she began, her voice a little shaky.
"Good morning, sunrise," he drawled, his deep, sexy voice like a caress.
"I... I can't find you anywhere," she stammered.
"What? You want me this morning again?" he teased, and her cheeks flamed.
"Shut up! I just wanted to ask you something. Never mind," she shot back, flustered.
"Come to me, darling," he said devilishly, sending a thrill down her spine.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked, trying to suppress a giggle.
"I always want you," he replied darkly, and her breath hitched.
