"We should go."
"No, it's still early, babe. Let's sleep a bit more!"
"Get off! I'm sticky and sweaty."
"Shower together?"
"Don't push it!"
Luther mumbled as he left the room to shower.
The echo of my heartbeat still haunted the room. Should I yell? Should I scream into the pillow? I'm so happy I can die.
The sheets are soft under me, the room is quiet, but inside my head, it's chaos because I can't stop grinning. I can't stop thinking about last night. About him.
The first thing I notice is the smell. It's everywhere—on the pillow under my face, on the sheets, in the air.
Him.
Not just his cologne or soap, but his skin, his warmth, every bit of him that brushed against me last night.
I bury my face into the pillow and take a deep breath, like I'm trying to pull him inside me somehow.
It makes me laugh, this little shaky sound, because it's so good. It's him.
He might not have left out his pheromones, but he just smells so incredibly sweet to me.
