The lips rested on Summer Sutton's forehead for a long time, as if reluctant to move away...
Summer Sutton was in a deep sleep, knowing nothing.
She slept soundly, in a haze, she felt like she was being held in someone's arms. The embrace had the scent and warmth of Adrian Walyon, but also carried the faint coldness of Watt Bennet.
All night, Summer Sutton felt a pair of arms holding her, but at that moment, her mind was too muddled. She wanted to open her eyes to see who it was, but her eyelids refused to lift.
After a hazy sleep, she woke up the next day, and it was already nine o'clock.
She was lying on the bed in the hotel room, and the room was empty, with only her in it.
Summer Sutton rubbed her aching forehead and found that the spot she bumped last night was sticky, like it had ointment applied.
The place on her hand, pricked by a glass, had new bandages, looking like they were just changed not long ago.
