~FABIOLA~
I wake with a jolt, a groan tearing from my throat as I instinctively rub at my eyes. Bad idea. The friction makes it worse. I blink rapidly, but I can’t see.
I didn’t sleep with my contacts in, did I?
I did.
That’s the only reasonable explanation for this agony. I’ve had the colored lenses in for nearly twenty-four hours. My corneas are screaming.
Suddenly, the sound of water shuts off. I freeze. Then, the silhouette of a man steps into my blurred peripherals. Tall. Broad.
“Good morning, Ava.” That voice. Low, raspy, and terrifyingly intimate.
Oh God. What have I done?
“You alright?” He steps closer. “Your eyes are very red.”
I scramble backward on the mattress, pulling the sheet up to my chin.
“You dropped these last night,” he says softly. “Good thing I put them on
