Anya bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, her heart hammering in her chest. She curled into herself, hugging her knees as her breathing struggled to steady. Her skin was slick and overheated, as if she had just run a marathon. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to push away the lingering images from her dream, the vivid, all-consuming dreams that seemed to invade her sleep on some nights.
Axel.
It was always Axel.
No matter the scenario, no matter the setting, he was the constant. Sometimes they were lying together in soft whispers, sometimes they were locked in an intense, passionate embrace, and other times, it was far more carnal, raw and undeniable. Each time, she woke up panting for air, her body betraying her.
To her horror, and secret pleasure, there had been nights where
