The Next Morning
Patricia stirred gently, something solid and warm pressed against her back. With a sleepy groan, she shifted, trying to nudge herself free, but the object didn't budge. Her eyes blinked open slowly, taking in the unfamiliar softness of the bed beneath her.
Then came a voice, deep, gentle, still tinged with sleep.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"
Startled, Patricia's eyes widened. That voice wasn't hers. She twisted her neck slightly, and her gaze met a tousled head of hair and sleepy eyes. It was Roman.
Memories from the previous night came rushing back. The couch… she must have dozed off there. Had he carried her to the bed?
"Morning," she said quietly, unsure how to react. "Yes, I did."
