2
Oliver
Warm sunlight streams through the blinds and sweeps across my bare back.
For a second, I think I’m dreaming.
Rina’s skin.
Her voice.
The way she moved beneath me, soft and wild.
In real life, Rina Reynolds can barely tolerate my presence. Half the time she looks at me like she’s imagining how deeply she could bury a stiletto in my chest. The other half, she acts like I don’t exist at all.
I press my face into the pillow, trying to hang on to the hazy remnants before reality fully catches up. The sheets smell faintly of her. Something warm and feminine beneath the hint of whiskey and sweat. It hits low and deep, an ache I’m reluctant to name.
I’d much rather stay here, trapped in that in-between space where nothing feels real and everything still could be.
But the images won’t stop coming.
Her at the bar with that Wall Street wannabe talking her ear off.
The way her eyes locked on mine when I pulled her onto the dance floor.
The cab ride to her apartment.
Bare skin and heat.
The memories hit harder now. They’re less like a dream and more like proof of what transpired.
My eyes snap open, and I turn to find Rina beside me. Her dark hair is draped across the pillow, tangled from sleep. Her face is angled toward me, thick lashes resting against flushed cheeks. Her lips are still swollen, and there’s a faint mark on her neck. The sight sends a kind of primal satisfaction roaring through my blood.
That’s my mark on her skin.
She looks so damn beautiful like this.
Unguarded and heartbreakingly real.
More memories crash through me. Her nails raking down my back, the rough sound of my name on her tongue, and the way she shattered beneath me.
Holy hell.
It wasn’t a dream at all.
I drag a hand over my face, grinning before I can stop myself.
She stirs beside me, lashes fluttering as her dark eyes blink open. The second her gaze meets mine, her expression freezes. Sleepiness gives way to dawning horror.
“Oh my God.” She bolts upright, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “We did not just?—”
“Oh, we definitely did.” My grin widens as I lace my hands behind my head.
Her cheeks flush a gorgeous shade of pink. “That was a mistake. One that can’t ever happen again.”
“Oh, it’s happening again, sweetheart.” I stretch lazily, knowing she’s trying not to stare. Her gaze flicks down my torso before she jerks it away.
“Oliver—”
