When I woke up, my head felt heavy, like I'd been running all night and slammed into a wall at the end. A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes. Even the soft morning light felt sharp, like it was pressing down on me.
I groaned and rubbed my temples. The bed was warm. Too warm. And the scent around me wasn't mine. It was clean, familiar, steady. It made something deep in my chest stir before my mind could catch up.
"Morning," a low voice said beside me.
I turned my head and froze.
Lewis was right there. Lying next to me. Close enough that I could see the faint line between his brows, the calm rise and fall of his chest.
My heart jumped hard.
Why was I in his bed?
I pushed myself upright too fast. Panic rushed in, sharp and sudden. Memories of last night were broken pieces his arms, his voice, the car, warmth, safety.
