Lucas woke up slowly, the warmth of the sheets and the hazy light escaping through the curtains drawn to hide his side of the bed from the sun. He blinked several times before realizing where he was—and that the last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the bathroom.
His body tensed. He jolted upright and shoved the sheets back, half expecting damp skin, cold tile, something undignified—
But he was dry. Dressed. The robe was gone, replaced with soft clothes that smelled faintly of bergamot and linen.
His fingers paused at the hem of his shirt.
"Are you awake?" Trevor asked, his voice low and even.
He didn't look up from the tablet.
Lucas's eyes snapped toward the sound. Trevor sat near the window, one leg crossed over the other, tablet in hand, a cup of coffee on the table beside him. The light caught his jaw, the curve of his shoulder where the shirt had folded from tension.
"How long have you been sitting there?" Lucas asked, voice raspier than intended.
