Lila’s P.O.V.
I stood behind the counter at the art center, absentmindedly flipping through a stack of promotional flyers for the upcoming exhibition. The sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting soft, dappled light across the studio floor. I loved this place—the smell of paint and clay, the gentle hum of creativity that seemed to always buzz in the air. Usually, being here filled me with a sense of calm, a sense of purpose.
But today, all I could really think about was Skye and in particular, his hands being on me.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, my lips curling into a secret smile. The breakfast-in-bed surprise this morning had been more than just a sweet gesture; it had turned into something else entirely. We hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other, and by th
