Riley:
The door clicked shut behind me, muffling the storm and muffling him, but it did nothing to quiet the riot inside me. My body was wound too tight, like every nerve was still buzzing from the ghost of his touch on my wrist.
I paced the length of my room, every step a war. The storm outside beat against the windows, wild and reckless, and I felt the same. Restless. Starving.
God, I could still feel him. The weight of his gaze. The rasp of his voice when he said don’t. The way his thumb had brushed my pulse made me feel like he knew exactly what it was doing to me.
I sat on the edge of the bed, buried my face in my hands, and exhaled. It should have been simple—shut it down, breathe, sleep. But when I closed my eyes, I saw him leaning closer, heat radiating off his skin, his mouth
