I am dreaming about Kieran’s hands on my thighs.
His teeth press against my skin, low, deliberate. His breath is hot, uneven. His grip tightens on my hips, dragging me closer, and I arch without thinking, wanting the pressure, the bruise, something I will not admit I want.
His mouth moves to my throat.
“Say it,” he growls.
“f**k you,” I breathe and still push into him.
He laughs, rough and dark, and it goes straight through me.
Then the heat disappears.
Someone else is there.
A silhouette in the darkness. I can't see his face, yet I know him as if from a distant memory. Fear washes over me. My body, however, remains still. His hand touches my shoulder, and I wake up.
***
I’m in a hospital gown. Basically paper and strings.
My shoulder’s exposed. There’s something there—bandages,
