[Ava's POV]
It was the scent of him that first pierced the mist of sleep. Not sound or light, but the aroma of him hung on the linen sheets, rich, heady smell infused in the very fabric of my pillowcase.
It was a hearty, masculine mosaic of deep sandalwood, old leather from the jacket he'd flung over a chair, and something evasive, something distinctly Jaxon—a crisp, clean note of skin and security that had become my own personal habit.
A slow, sensual smile, private and entirely mine, widened across my face as the memories of last night came rushing back, not as fragmented pictures, but as a gut-level tide.
My flesh thrummed with a sweet, satisfied ache, an empty echo of his presence. Half-asleep still, I reached out, my palm resting on the empty space beside me, my fingers extendi
