LAYLA LAY ACROSS HER bed, relishing the feel of the satin bedspread beneath her bare shoulders. Miri had kept her up, wanting to share each little drawing she’d made until the small girl passed out on top of the table. Drake had been the one to gingerly lift her from her seat and carry her to his bed again.
While he tucked the little girl in and left the master bedroom all to Miri, Layla retreated to her own room. She threw off a layer of the sheer top she’d worn earlier and felt a breath of fresh air return to her lungs.
Now, she smelled his spicy scent fill the air and tilted her head to find Drake leaning in the door frame. His hands were tucked in his pockets, but he looked lost. She should be angry with him. She should be furious with him for not trusting her enough. Yet, she’d seen
