A sharp tug at the blanket yanked Ryan out of the fog of sleep. His head pounded, a dull, insistent ache, and the grogginess clung to him like a second skin. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the dim morning light filtering through the blinds.
“Get up.”
The sharp bite in Sienna’s voice sliced through the haze. Ryan cracked an eye open, just in time to see her standing over him, arms folded, her expression a mixture of impatience and barely restrained irritation.
“I said, get up.” She deepened her words with another tug, nearly ripping the blanket off the bed.
Ryan exhaled through his nose, raking a hand down his face. “What the hell, Sienna?” His voice was raspy, his throat dry from whatever the hell he had downed last night.
She scoffed. “You dare to ask me that? After the
