My fingers tremble as I quickly open my text messages and type one out.
Elodie: Did you lock the door when you left?
I hit send, recalling the fact that Ocean mentioned going to the gym. I don’t have to wait long for a response.
Ocean: Of course, how come?
Elodie: No reason, I was just checking.
Ocean: Don’t worry so much. We’ve got this.
Sighing, I open the surveillance camera app again, rewatching their every move three times, but when I draw my finger across the recording line for the fourth time, I pause when I notice movement sensors had been triggered earlier. Going further back, I gulp when I spot the moment Ocean woke me from my dream, but it’s the notification from mere moments earlier that stops me in my tracks.
I’m in the frame, sleeping, but I’m not alone.
The familiar black-clothed figure is beside me, and I’m… nuzzling into them.
How much of my dream was actually a dream, and what could have been my reality?
The scent.
The warmth.
The comfort.
Was it… real?
Fuck.
I toss my cell phone down on the table, unable to look at it any longer as I attempt to take a calming breath, but each pass is a failure as my shoulders slump and I brace my hands on the edge of the wood.
Clearly, the lock isn’t keeping them out, whoever they are. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. I should probably tell Ocean, but none of this is helping me figure out the bigger issue I have: learning myself.
Grabbing one of the books, I spread it out on the table and skim my fingers over it, remaining on my feet since my muscles are coiled too tight to even consider taking a seat.
I skim over the content page, but at first glance, nothing stands out. Before I give in and run my attention over each page, I do the same with the next book and the one after that, to no avail. I reachfor another, hunched over the table with determination, when I feel a soft breeze ghost over my skin and I freeze in place.
Before I can glance over my shoulder, a presence presses against my back as lips meet the shell of my ear. “Did you wear this for me?”
The woodsy scent that swarms me matches the eyes I peer into a moment later.
Rion.
“I wore it because it’s warm,” I murmur, my skin tingling from head to toe at his proximity.
“You’re not sweating,” he rasps, his fingers trailing over my hips, and my thighs clench as I try to remain strong.
“Exactly. Because I wore the dress,” I reiterate, but even I can hear the way my voice shallows out.
His eyes darken as his lips kick up and his fingers dance over the hem of my dress. “Let me change that,” he rasps, returning his lips to my ear as he crowds me even more. His hand glides over my center, stealing my breath as I almost buckle before him.
“Rion,” I croak, feeling his breath dance over my skin as he snickers.
“I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already a whimpering mess,” he announces, and I shake my head.
“Am not.”
My refusal is embarrassing. I should be pushing him away and demanding to know how he found me. Instead, I’m a puppet and he’s my master, getting under my skin despite my efforts.
