I woke tangled in his arms. The sheets were a mess, twisted beneath us, the air still thick with the scent of s*x and sweat and something darker I couldn’t name. Adrian’s hand rested low on my waist, his fingers splayed over my hip like he was afraid I might disappear while he slept.
He was warm. Solid. The kind of warmth that made me want to stay buried in him forever.
But morning was cruel.
Morning meant reality.
The questions I couldn’t ask.
The lies I hadn’t untangled.
And the image of my father’s lifeless eyes—still and empty—haunted me more every day.
I slipped out from beneath Adrian as gently as I could, ignoring the ache between my thighs, the bruises blooming across my hips.
I liked the way he marked me.
Liked the way I felt claimed.
Owned.
But I didn’t know how much l
