Layla's POV
It was an unnaturally loud click of the door sealing both of us in quietude in my apartment. My heart raced, still somewhat unstilled with the weight of Ezra's gaze lingering outside. Fast as a whip, he entered when invited, and as he stepped farther into my domain, it felt as if something unspoken had blanketed the room.
"Feel at home," I murmured, walking toward the little table placed at the entrance, where I let my roses rest. The petals were still fresh, perfuming the air like a time capsule of his gaze when he gave them to me.
I turned around and found him watching again, his posture easy, yet there was something dark and unreadable in the gaze of those deep eyes. He was unhurried, deliberate, as he slid off his jacket and hung it over the back of the couch.
