I groan, turning to one side and covering my head with a pillow when the sound of notifications blaring nonstop from my phone fills my ears—only to halt when an unfamiliar scent of oakwood mixed in with a hint of lavender fills my nostrils from the duvet covering me. I immediately sit up the bed, looking at my surroundings.
Where the hell am I?
My eyes scan the sun-bathed room, taking in the dark wood and various shades of gray and beige as I blink nonstop. Then it hits me. I spent the night in Desmond's fucking room!
As if to mock me, images of my affection-deprived ass acting clingy immediately flood my mind, making me cringe and try to suffocate myself with the pillow in my hands.
