INKA
Riley was the first thing I thought of when I opened my eyes the following morning as sunlight streamed through Kayde's bedroom's large windows.
I was supposed to leave town last night, and she must have been worried sick when I didn't show up or answer my phone.
I slowly sat up, still wearing only Kayde's oversized black t-shirt. He was awake. I could feel it as his fingers traced lazy patterns on my hip beneath the shirt.
“Good morning, little ghost," he murmured, his voice deep and rough from sleep before pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss on the side of my neck that made me shiver. “How'd you sleep?"
I whispered, “Good." This was true. For the first time in months, I hadn't awoken in the middle of a nightmare. His hand slid up under the shirt, possessively cupping my breast a
