Nora's POV
I wake up gasping, thighs clenched, sheets twisted around my legs like restraints.
The dream is still burning behind my eyelids.
Mikhail above me, inside me, mouth on my throat, hand between my legs, fingers moving with that cruel precision that used to make me sob his name.
I was so close—so f*****g close—when the alarm shrieked like a fire siren.
I slap the clock silent and lie there panting, soaked in sweat and shame.
"f**k," I hiss into the dark. "f**k, f**k, fuck."
I'm twenty-four years old, in love with a man who makes me pancakes and calls me sunshine, and I'm having wet dreams about the devil who once owned my soul.
I drag myself out of bed, legs shaky, panties ruined.
The bathroom light is brutal.
My reflection looks like she's
