“What time is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

The memories of the previous night made her cheeks flush slightly.

“It’s twelve.

Twelve o’clock?

She had slept until noon?

Tilda could hardly believe it.

As she shifted her body, attempting to speak, a rumbling sound from her stomach interrupted her thoughts.

She paused, instinctively looking at her stomach, and realized that the sound wasn’t coming from her, but from someone else.

Tilda turned her head and saw Lyndon’s slightly embarrassed expression.

Bunny Bookery

Was he… hungry?

sparkled

“Are you hungry?”

Lyndon cleared his throat.

in any longer,

a loss for

with her in bed, acting as her pillow, skipping both breakfast

and touched, Tilda softened her

“I’m awake now.

You can go.

he glanced at her exposed skin

fetch you

acknowledgment, nestling back under the blanket and waiting for

carried a faint trace of his scent, and she couldn’t

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