Perhaps it was because she had just woken up, Jasmine Yale's face felt very warm, smooth, and soft to the touch.
His palm was warm too, exuding the familiar heaviness and tenderness.
Jasmine gripped his hand, pulled him closer, and burrowed into his arms.
Sylvan Cheney chuckled, "Be good, sleep a little more. If you don't, I'll have to head to the airport."
Jasmine shook her head, "I won't sleep. Let's talk for a bit."
Even though they had only been apart for a few days, it felt like a century had passed. Now that she saw him, she only wanted to nestle in his arms.
"It's still early, you need more sleep. Is your stomach feeling better? Did you go to the hospital?"
"I didn't go to the hospital. It's nothing, just a normal reaction."
"If anything happens, tell Aunt Santana immediately, don't tough it out. When I came back, your hands and feet were cold. Did you sleep restlessly?"
