Hope
Something smelled sinfully good—like heat and spice, laced with the faintest trace of pine and danger. It wraps around me, thick and intoxicating, the kind of scent you'd want to drown in.
I burrow deeper into the warmth pressing against me, my cheek nestled against something firm and impossibly comfortable. My entire body hums with contentment. I don't want to move. Not even a little. But I'd promised Lizzie we'd hit the gym early before my afternoon class.
"Just five more seconds of this bliss," I whisper to myself lazily.
That's when I notice something... off. My bed has never been this massive. Or this warm.
Cracking one eye open, I blink into unfamiliar surroundings. No ceiling cloud lighting. No Polaroids on the wall. No obnoxiously cheerful vase of sunflowers on my fucking nightstand.
My gaze drops—and immediately locks on the smooth, bare expanse of a very male chest. My heart stutters. I look up... and promptly stop breathing.
Jeremy.
