Chapter 105

The next morning. Sunlight poured through the window. On the king-sized black bed, Prescott's eyes flew open. There wasn't a trace of drowsiness in those dark eyes-just sharpness, clear and cold, like blades. He shifted slightly, about to get up-then froze. Because, holy hell, he was curled up against a woman's chest. His gaze darkened. Who the hell was she? Why was she in his room? Last night... what happened last night? He searched his mind-but it was blank. Not even a blurry fragment. His lips pressed into a cold, tight line. His expression sank into pure stormcloud territory. His icy stare landed on the woman still fast asleep next to him-Camila. He had to admit-she was gorgeous. That tousled black hair spilled across the pillow like silk. Her features were delicate. Skin smooth and pale like porcelain. Even with her eyes shut, he could tell they'd be big and probably stunning. Her lashes were long and thick, slightly fluttering. And her lips... they were perfectly shaped. The bath