He lowered his head and tucked the blanket around Jasmine Yale before heading to the bathroom to take a shower.
The morning light streamed in through the window, casting a faint glow on the floor.
When Sylvan Cheney came out after his shower, Jasmine Yale was still asleep.
He bent down, his warm fingers pinching her soft cheek, his voice low and deep: "Jasy, wake up."
Jasmine stirred, shook her head, and mumbled, "No."
"Being naughty? Get up for breakfast."
"Let me sleep a little more."
Jasmine couldn't even open her eyes—she wanted to keep sleeping.
"So lazy. Get up." Sylvan slid his hand inside her pajama top, his warm breath brushing against her face. "I'll take you out for a walk."
"I'm not lazy..." Jasmine squirmed, half-asleep. "You're the one who makes nights exhausting..."
Every night was like this—wasn't he afraid of wearing himself out?
To the point that she trembled at the sight of him every evening.
