“You’re watching me again and it's afternoon. You missed breakfast.”

Adrian’s voice floated to her from across the room, low and amused, as he shrugged on a black T-shirt, the fabric stretching tight across his chest. It was the next day and she'd slept through the morning.

Naya blinked, caught. “I wasn’t. I was tired.”

He turned toward her slowly, one eyebrow raised, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly. He looked freshly showered, hair damp and tousled, skin ...