It was hard to tell how much time had passed. Drake had lost himself in me, chasing something he could never quite reach, until he finally collapsed, breathless and drunk on desire.
I could barely move a finger, but I forced myself to stay lucid. I gently rolled his heavy body to the side, peeling off the damp clothes clinging to him and pulling a warm blanket over his chest.
Then I picked up my scattered clothes from the floor and slowly dressed myself. I wasn't confident with the layers and laces, but I managed to cover up decently.
I glanced down at Drake, now fast asleep. The corners of his eyes shimmered — was that sweat, or something else entirely?
As I turned to leave, his hand caught my wrist, lightly, as if afraid to break something fragile. I froze, thinking he was awake, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing steady.
Still searching, even in his dreams?
