Next morning, Lilith woke up feeling sore all over her body — that sweet, dull ache that reminded her of everything they'd done last night. She stretched her arms above her head and winced a little, but a tiny, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.
She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face. That's when she realised she was wearing his shirt — soft, loose, smelling like him and nothing else underneath.
A warm feeling spread in her chest as memories flashed: how she'd fallen asleep in the middle of the night, too exhausted to even move, and how he'd lifted her so carefully in his arms, carried her to the bathroom, washed her with gentle hands, whispered sweet things against her ear, and dressed her in his shirt like she was the most precious thing in his world.
