Penelope woke up from a deep sleep, her eyes fluttering open to an unfamiliar ceiling. A jolt of panic shot through her as scattered memories from the night before rushed back.
Images of Tyron, their bodies entangled in moments far too intimate, flashed through her mind. The worst part? She remembered everything. Every touch, every movement—it was all crystal clear.
She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the lingering embarrassment, and quickly sat up to check herself. Her clothes were still on, but her left shoulder was exposed, the fabric slipping just enough to reveal faint bruises. That was when she realized—he had dressed her.
Her cheeks burned as she recalled how he had driven one-handed while restraining her with the other.
Penelope turned even redder. Damn it! She, who ha
