Layla Miller

"Oh?" he murmured, eyes finally fluttering open. That had his curiosity piqued, to say the least, though he still couldn't bring himself to move. His gaze dropped briefly down to her mouth, before meeting her eyes, his expression inquisitive, if not especially scrutinizing. Layla Miller knew stuff. It was, with no exaggeration, her catchphrase. Even through the lull of warm, heavy limbs, and deep, rhythmic breathing, that struck him as distinctly noteworthy, something worth investigating, that she would simply admit to not knowing something.

"And why's that?"