Layla's POV.
I couldn’t sleep.
Even after Marcus had f****d me slow and deep in his bed, filling me one more time before pulling me against his chest, my mind refused to quiet. His hand still rested possessively over my lower belly as he slept, warm and heavy, as if already protecting something that wasn’t there yet.
Or maybe already was.
The thought sent a fresh spike of panic through my chest.
I slipped out of bed carefully, wrapped myself in his discarded button-down shirt, and padded downstairs to the kitchen. The house was dark and silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator. I poured myself a glass of water and stood at the counter, staring out the window into the backyard where I had played as a teenager.
This was insane.
I was twenty years old. I had college, friends,
