His citrus scent captured my senses. I struggled to breath in any other smell, just to get my mind off of him. His face and voice corroded my dreams. I’d woken up several times last night, with the cold realization that I’d only been imagining those romantic scenes where he whispered I was beautiful and pressed his lips on mine. God, I’m pathetic. I kept my eyes closed and stretched my toes under the covers. All of a sudden, Wiz’s rough hands slipped up my shirt and caressed my waist. I froze. He’s awake? His heart pounded in my ears. My breathing increased to an unsteady pace. I opened my eyes. Sunlight peered through my bedroom’s blinds, brightening his sleeping face, and painted his eyelashes in a golden hue. Goddess he’s beautiful, but he’s defiantly not awake. Wiz’s hands pulled me to him. What? How did he do that? I moved the blanket off me to see what was grabbing at my waist. The worms wiggled all over his hands and arms as he dragged me to him.
