I barely slept.
When sleep did come, it wasn’t rest... it was Ryan. Not the man who threw daggers with words and branded my body with bruises. No, this Ryan was a dream-version, a cruel trick of my subconscious.
In the dream he was slow, decadent. His mouth trailed kisses instead of claiming bruises. His hands praised instead of punished. He murmured my name like it was worth more than contracts, whispered compliments instead of commands. For once, he didn’t look at me like a burden to be endured but as though I was the only thing in the room. And it undid me.
When I jolted awake, sheets twisted around my damp skin, my pulse still raced from phantom touches. Heat curled low in my stomach, shame burning just as fast. The AC hummed a steady, indifferent note. My body didn’t.
“Fuck.” I sw
