Saturday, 8:00 AM. Elena's Apartment.
The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, painting the room in soft shades of gold and cream. I woke up to the smell of coffee and the warmth of a body pressed against mine.
Elena was still asleep, her breathing slow and rhythmic. She was lying on her side, the silk sheet slipping down to reveal the curve of her shoulder and the swell of her chest. Even in sleep, she was breathtaking. Her dark auburn hair was spread across the pillow like a halo, softening the sharp, intellectual lines of her face.
I carefully slid out of bed, trying not to wake her. I grabbed my boxers and walked to the window, looking out at the city. The snow from yesterday had turned to slush, but from up here, everything looked pristine.
"You're thinking about her," a voice said from the bed.
