[Draven].
I almost kissed her. But I needed her dressed first.
"Sit."
She sat, barely. Her spine curved like a wilted flower.
I guided her arms through the sleeves and pulled the soft top down over her body. She exhaled, relieved, as if I had draped heaven over her skin.
Then came the pants. I held them out, and she lifted her leg—just one.
"Both," I said.
She lifted the same leg again.
I laughed under my breath. "The other one."
"Oh." She switched legs in slow motion.
Somehow, by some miracle, I got the shorts onto her.
When she was finally dressed, she slid back under the duvet without waiting for my permission, curling into it as if the bed had swallowed her whole.
I stared at her, hands on my hips. "You are impossible."
A tiny smile peeked from the pillow. "You still love me," she murmured.
"Unfortunately," I muttered.
She chuckled—soft, sleepy, adorable.
