MAYA
The dining room lights felt too bright.
It was well past eight at night, and the long mahogany table was set beautifully with candles flickering, silverware gleaming, the scent of Mom’s favorite roasted chicken and herbs filling the air.
I sat right next to her, my silk sleep shorts riding high on my thighs under the tablecloth. No panties. I’d changed after we got home from the farmhouse because I planned to crawl straight into bed after dinner and hide from everything.
Especially from him.
Tristan sat directly across from me, looking unfairly calm and devastating in a black button-down with the top two buttons undone. His sleeves were still rolled up from earlier, those veiny forearms resting on the table like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn’t tied my wrists to his headb
