EDWARD’S POV
“Whatever she’s saying right now, whatever her body is demanding, that’s the heat talking. Not Layla.”
The words sound less convincing the moment they leave my mouth.
“I’m not doing anything she’ll wake up tomorrow and regret. I’m not—”
A cry rips from her throat, her back arching off the mattress and the sound tears straight through me, scattering every coherent thought I’ve managed to hold onto.
“Layla.” The mattress dips beneath my weight as I drop onto the edge of the bed and reach for her. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
She grabs my shirt with both hands.
“Take it off.” Her voice is nothing like her normal voice. It’s rough, and desperate. “Take it off, Edward. Please. I need you to just take it off—”
Her fingers are already fumbling with the fabric and Zyrax surges.
