The morning light streamed through the kitchen windows, golden and too bright for Sierra’s liking. She sat at the table with a mug of coffee she didn’t even remember pouring. Her fingers tapped against the porcelain, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Sleep had been impossible after what Damien had done to her the night before. His words, his hands, the silk binding her wrists they all replayed in her head in a loop, making her ache in ways she didn’t know she could.
And yet, she wasn’t the only one awake in the house.
“Did you sleep at all?” Vanessa’s voice broke through Sierra’s haze. Her mother stood across the counter, blonde hair tied back in a loose bun, her robe belted casually at the waist. She looked like the picture of domestic serenity, but her eyes sharp, assessing caug
