Rose stared at the ceiling.
The early morning sun had crept between the slats of her blinds, casting golden stripes across the bedroom. Adrian was still asleep beside her, one arm flung carelessly over her stomach, his face half-buried in the pillow.
His breathing was soft, steady.
Peaceful.
And that terrified her more than she cared to admit.
She should’ve been freaking out.
She was freaking out. Just very quietly. Internally.
Because last night wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like that. Not with that much emotion. Not with her heart threatening to crawl out of her chest every time he whispered her name.
She glanced at him—at the faint scruff on his jaw, the messy hair, the slight crease between his brows that made him look boyish even in sleep.
Too real.
Slipping out of bed with
