7
Caitlyn rolled over and cried out. Her side hurt like hell. She stretched her hand along the sheet. Soft, smooth, expensive? What the hell?
Her eyes popped open, the rest of her body completely still. Where was she? The room wasn’t familiar. A tall red dresser was across from the bed. An open closet held clothes that weren’t familiar. Women’s clothes.
Not Jeanine’s, though.
Jeanine!
Everything came back to Caitlyn in a flash, like it had all been a dream, but it wasn’t. She sat up, the cool rush of air from her movement drawing her attention to her bare torso. Thank God she still wore her b*a, but her shirt was gone. Her leggings were still on. What the hell was going on?
Caitlyn stood, holding her breath when the pain in her—what the hell?—freshly stitched side sliced through her.
