I blinked rapidly trying to remember I was. Oh the studio.
The studio was quiet. The first light of morning bled through the tall windows, soft and grey. I'd fallen asleep on the small couch in the corner after he left, wrapped in a throw blanket that smelled like fabric samples and coffee. I'd been too dazed to go back to the penthouse. Too shaken to face him in the same space.
I could still feel the ghost of his mouth on mine, the way his hands had gripped my waist like he was afraid I'd disappear. The memory made my skin warm.
But now it was morning, and I had work.
I sat up slowly, touching my lips. They were still tender. I could almost hear his voice this doesn't change anything but this time, it hadn't felt like a dismissal. It had felt like a warning. Like he was trying to rem
