It was a little past eight when I eventually stirred awake, almost falling face flat from the bed. Luckily, I caught myself up right on time, sucking in a deep breath, my throat parched and painful. Glancing around, from the gold wall clock to the black sheets, I remembered where I was, the events of the previous nights slowly coming back to me. I lay in Abel's bed, his masculine scent still permeating the pillows, and sheets, and thicker in the air. He'd probably left a few minutes before I woke up. I crawled on my knees to the left side of the bed, my attention drawn to the folded paper on the bedside table, beneath the fluorescent lamp.
Perhaps something urgent came up. Unfolding it carefully, I glanced through:
Good morning, Gorgeous.
