I didn’t sleep. My body was too sore. My mind too awake. Every time I shifted beneath the silk sheets, I felt the ache between my thighs. The reminder. I touched the bruises on my hips and thighs, fresh and warm. Proof of his grip. His teeth. His claim.
Morning light filtered through the tall window, but I didn’t move. I lay there naked, arms at my sides, still blindfolded even though he’d untied it before leaving. I’d put it back on myself. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was easier not seeing the world around me when I no longer felt part of it.
A soft knock.
I jumped, heart pounding. The door opened without waiting for permission.
Footsteps approached. Slow. Measured. I smelled him before I heard his voice—clean like cedarwood and cold like metal.
“Still in bed?” His voice was amused.
