Sunlight lanced through the bay windows of the master bedroom like liquid gold, sharp shafts slicing past half-drawn cream curtains to stab relentlessly at Emily's eyelids, dragging her from a deep, dreamless slumber with a groggy groan that rumbled low in her throat.
Morning already? Time had dissolved into a hazy blur after Reyes's SUV crunched gravel down the drive past midnight, taillights winking farewell in the rearview—leaving Emily to stumble through the foyer door on wobbly heels, body buzzing from laughter, and tacos.
Reyes wanted to help her enter into the house, but she refused as she didn't want to take more of her time. No clear memory surfaced of shedding yesterday's clothes or crawling under the puffy duvet; a rumpled trail marked her path instead—brown silk tube top draped over the chaise, jeans kicked into a corner by the vanity, heels toppled haphazard near the rug's edge.
