Saturday morning, on the day of the inauguration,
Anya groaned at the throbbing headache. She remembered Krystle luring her to drink saying Alvin was there to take care of her. After that Krystle didn't say a word, she drank and danced as if there was no tomorrow.
A muscular arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her behind. Without opening her eyes, Anya flipped on the bed and snuggled into his arms, inhaling Alvin's woody masculine scent. She had missed cuddling her bed warmer.
She felt her hand glide on toned muscles over the smooth skin. She could feel it faintly rise and fall.
'A bare chest? Argh… Am I still drunk?' Anya thought to herself and snuggled closer in his arms as her hand went around Alvin's waist.
Anya: "…"
What is wrong with her? Why was she picturing Alvin naked next to her?
