TWENTY-SIX
ANNABEL
“Anna.”
My name, rough and demanding, stirred me from the edges of sleep.
I moaned, too exhausted to do much else when strong limbs tightened around me, bringing me back to my body.
A large hand slid from my hip to my a*s, pressing me tight against a very male form, the hardness grinding into my pelvis unmistakable even in my groggy state.
“No,” I whined, still too out of it to open my eyes—not that I needed to. Modi’s scent was in my nostrils, our bond humming pleasantly in my chest where my breasts were pressed against his ribcage “Sleep.”
“You f**k him, you f**k me,” he murmured in my ear, the unmistakable heat in his voice raising goosebumps along my neck despite myself. A press of a knee parted my legs, and I groaned another complaint when my thigh slid over
