The morning light peeked into the room, casting its golden hue over the bed. Layla, feeling its glare, dipped her head into the crook of his neck. One of her arms rested over his chest as she snuggled closer to her Michael.
She was stark naked under the sheets, her fuller breasts brushing against his sturdy frame, which gave her an unexplainable comfort. It didn't end up well, as her peaks became taut from feeling his hot skin while he was still asleep. Why isn't he hugging me yet? She felt irritated, as she was craving to be caged in his arms. It was one of the best feelings for her.
As if sensing her plea even in his sleep, Michael turned to face her side. His hand brought her close to his chest, possessively holding her like he owned her. His spicy, masculine scent hit her senses, and it offered a sense of safety to her—one that she loved a lot.
"Michael…" she whispered his name in a soft tone as she was conflicted about whether or not to wake him up.
