Brooklyn opened her eyes to sunlight pouring through strange windows and the warm heaviness of an arm slung around her waist. For a frustrated moment, she blanked on where she was. Then she remembered last night—the library, the studying that had become kissing, Jayce walking her home and then somehow still being there.
She turned slowly so that she wouldn't wake him and came face to face with Daniel. He was younger, more vulnerable asleep. His black hair was disheveled, and his face was relaxed in the way it never seemed to be when he was awake. Brooklyn restrained the urge to slide her hand over the line of his jaw, twine her fingers in his hair.
This was dangerous territory. She had allowed him to come too near, and she had let her guard fall much too low. She had been reckless and impulsive last night in the library, doing things she was not used to. And now, here he was, in her bed, an easy fit.
