The room had gone dark around us, nothing but moonlight spilling through those massive gothic windows and casting silver patterns across Sabrina's bare skin. I should have been exhausted. Should have been thinking about the drive back to Philly, about Iris waiting at home with her sketchbook and her too-perceptive observations about my love life.
Instead I was watching Sabrina trace lazy circles on my chest, her wine-red hair fanned out across my shoulder like silk.
"Stay."
One word. Quiet. Almost lost in the darkness.
"I have to get back. Iris is expecting me."
"Iris is fourteen and perfectly capable of surviving one night without you hovering." Her fingers drifted lower, trailing across my stomach in a way that made thinking significantly harder. "She has Gerald for company."
"The unicorn is not a substitute for responsible adult supervision."
"You're eighteen. Barely qualifies as adult supervision in the first place."
She had a point. Not that I was going to admit it.
