Pride
If this float is a rockin' don't come a knockin'“Time to wake up, baby.” Her voice is soft, gentle. My eyes lazily roll open, glazed over with fragments of last night's dream. Groaning, I pull the sheet over my face and rub my eyes with the heel of my palm, trying to shed sleep from my mind. “Ayla.” The way she drags out my name, letting it linger on her lips, causes a tingle. “Ayla,” she says it again and I feel the warmth of her breath against my neck. I can feel h...
