Ava’s POV
I woke up on something too soft to be mine. The sheets whispered against my skin when I shifted, silk slipping like water over bare legs, over bare shoulders. For a second, I almost convinced myself I was still in a dream. My body felt too warm, too heavy, caught in that rare, intoxicating haze that comes after surrendering completely to another person. Every bone and muscle hummed with exhaustion, but it was the sweet kind—the kind that lingers after being touched, held, claimed.
But the ceiling above me wasn’t mine. It wasn’t the familiar white plaster of my apartment. This was smooth, higher, painted in a pale gray that caught the morning light like steel. I blinked, heart stumbling, and turned my head.
The truth rushed back all at once.
Nathaniel. His penthouse. Last nigh
