My last coherent thought before sleep dragged me under was the one I wanted least.
He still had my bikini top.
And I had no idea what price he’d decide I would pay for it tomorrow.
I did not know how long I slept.
It felt shallow, broken, more like falling into a fever-dream than true rest. My body drifted somewhere between waking and unconsciousness, tangled in images of dark water and Riley’s hands and the soft snap of a knot coming undone.
At some point the dreams shifted.
Something cold dragged across the back of my mind.
A prickle.
A warning.
Then a sound.
Soft.
Too soft.
My eyes snapped open.
For a disoriented second, the room was only shadows layered on shadows, the kind that made everything look unfamiliar. The curtains breathed with the ocean breeze. The clock on the wall glowed faintly.
But something was wrong.
I felt it before I saw it.
A tension in the air, a subtle displacement, like the room had inhaled and held its breath.
My heart began to pound.
I pushed up onto my elbows, blinking rapidly, my gaze sweeping the darkness. The bathroom door was closed. The closet was still ajar, just as I had left it. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.
And yet every instinct screamed that I wasn’t alone.
I sat fully upright, pulse quickening, breath caught high in my throat. The sheets whispered as I shifted, the noise far too loud in the suffocating quiet.
Then a shape separated from the shadows.
Just a fraction.
A darker dark in the corner near the balcony doors.
I froze.
The air thickened, the silence pulling tight around my chest. The shape didn’t move for several seconds. It just existed, patient and unhurried, watching me with the stillness of a predator waiting for prey to realize it has already been caught.
My breath hitched.
Then he stepped forward.
Riley.
The moonlight slid across his face, outlining the sharp cut of his jaw and the careless fall of hair that made him look both wild and beautifully untamed. His expression was unreadable, but the energy rolling off him was unmistakable.
