Maya's POV
Sleep had fled from me completely, leaving me staring into the darkness while London's distant nighttime sounds drifted through the windows like whispered secrets.
Bernie lay beside me, his breathing deep and even, his features softened into an expression of peace that made him look younger somehow. During our waking hours, he carried tension in the set of his jaw, but now all of that had melted away.
I eased myself from the bed with careful movements, not wanting to disturb his rest.
His white dress shirt from earlier hung on my frame like a protective cocoon, the fabric soft against my skin. The sleeves covered my hands completely, and the hem skimmed the middle of my thighs. It smelled like him—that intoxicating blend of cedar and something indefinably masculine that made my pulse quicken even now.
