Morning arrived like any other. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the thick curtains, sketching the curves of pillows and bodies. The sheet lay rumpled around Andromeda’s waist as she slowly, still with sleepy eyes, turned to the side. Lucian was no longer beside her. But his place was still warm. His scent lingered in the air—coffee, leather, and that deep, calming masculinity she now recognized without effort.
Andromeda stayed wrapped in the blanket for a few more minutes before, as if nothing at all had happened in the past few days, she pulled on her yoga pants, grabbed a fitted tank top that once again outlined her figure far too well, twisted her hair into a bun, and tucked the first pencil behind her ear. The second went between her lips, the third into her hand.
Downstairs, t
