Every second counts

The morning light filtered softly through the pink curtains of my childhood room, painting the walls in hues of gold and blush.

My eyes blinked open slowly, the familiar scent of home mingling with something uniquely us.

It took me a moment to register the warmth of Zaya beside me, her bare skin brushing against mine under the tangled sheets.

My gaze wandered down, taking in the rise and fall of her chest, the faint curve of her lips as she slept. She looked peaceful, her usually sharp features softened by sleep.

And then it hit me—last night.

My cheeks burned as the memories came flooding back. The whispers, the laughter, the way we'd barely managed to keep quiet. My body ached in all the best ways, a reminder of just how... thorough Zaya could be.

Oh god. Did anyone hear us?