CLAYTON'S P. O. V
I couldn't sleep.
Not even a damm wink.
My throat felt dry again. I lay in the dark, the soft night breeze rustling the trees outside. A sliver of moonlight crept in from the window, illuminating the otherwise dark room
I turned again, willing my mind to rest, but it wouldn't listen. The sheets were tangled at my feet from how much I had tossed and turned, and I brought a hand over my face like it could shut out the images I've in my head since noon.
But they kept coming. Each one more visceral than the last. When I closed my eyes, it felt like she was here with me, lying besides me, with her hair splayed over the pillow as I buried my finger in the inky strands, while she slept and murmured quietly after I would have loved and worshiped every inch of her beautiful b
