Chapter Eight

The following day, when Avery woke up, she instantly rolled over, intent on stretching out her sore limbs, but stopped once she found a cold sheet next to her.

Aamon's side of the bed was empty and felt ice-cold to her touch as if he hadn't spent the night next to her. It was clear he had left the bed a while ago, so following his example, Avery got out of the bed.

Her eyes scanned the room, finding it more breathtaking in the daylight than it appeared late last evening. Avery's gaze stopped on the end of the bed, where she found a pile of nearly folded clothes and reached for them.

A pair of blue denim jeans, a shirt, a leather jacket and a pair of impressive high heel boots. At the bottom of the pile, she found a lace bra and thong.

Now, she wouldn't keep wondering how on earth Aamon knew her clothing size. Besides, where did he get the clothes? It was light outside; clearly, a new day had begun, but it seemed too early for any shops to be open.

Avery's eyes scanned the tags, a
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