Charlotte Sanguinite
I’m warm and comfortable when a thudding sound has me stirring.
My brows wrinkling, I bury my face in Robert’s chest, wanting the annoying sound to stop. However, it’s like a consistent drum, refusing to take a break.
Wait…Robert’s chest?
My eyes fly open, and I realize I’m in my room, but I’m not alone on the bed. Robert is holding me in his arms, his eyes closed, his breathing deep.
What is he doing in here?
The room is cold. I’m tucked inside the blanket as he holds me to him, but Robert is on top of it.
Silly man. I touch his hands and feel displeased. He’s like a block of ice. He should have climbed under the covers with me.
The pounding sound intensifies, and I figure out it’s coming from downstairs. Someone’s banging on the front door.
“Robert.” I shake
