Morning sunlight pierced through the heavy curtains, illuminating the room.
Cecilia Adler struggled to open her eyes. Her head ached, her throat was sore, and her whole body was sore.
An arm lay across her waist, heavy as lead.
"Honey, you're awake?"
Cecilia silently pulled the comforter over her head. Recalling the previous night's madness, she was too ashamed to face him. Muffled, she said, "Why aren't you up yet?"
"Don't want to."
Cecilia: "....You should get up. I'm so tired today, I don't think I can make you breakfast. I'll have to trouble you to make it for me."
"My cooking is terrible. I'll buy you something."
"That works too."
Ian Quincy got up.
Cecilia waited a long time but didn't hear the door close. When she turned around, the young man was standing there, his upper body bare, his perfect physique on full display. Her breath hitched, and she blushed to the roots of her hair. "What are you doing just standing there?"
"I'm getting dressed."
