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“Oh God,” I whisper.

The words are too loud in the quiet room.

My hips rock into my hand.

I imagine his mouth at my breast, his tongue dragging over my nipple through the thin pajama top before he pulls the fabric aside and sucks me properly into his mouth. I imagine his fingers sliding inside me, slow at first, then deeper, curling until I lose the ability to pretend this is about anything except wanting him.

“You like that?” he murmurs against my skin. “You like imagining my hands on you?”

Yes. Yes, I do.

I’m too far gone to deny it, even to myself.

I push two fingers inside, and the stretch makes me arch into the mattress. It is not enough, not compared to what my mind supplies, not compared to the imagined weight of him between my thighs, but it is enough to make my breathing turn ragged.

In my head, Nikolai’s mouth is against my ear. “Come for me, Elara.”

My stomach tightens.

The pleasure builds quickly, overwhelmingly, my body still raw from fear and adrenaline and the memory of him holding me. I work my clit harder, fingers moving inside me as I imagine his hand replacing mine, his voice lowering into something rougher.

“That’s it. Let me feel you.”

I come with my teeth pressed into the heel of my hand.

It hits so hard that my body jerk, thighs gripping my wrist as waves of pleasure surge repeatedly. I shake uncontrollably, eyes shut tight, with Nikolai’s name clenched behind my teeth, as I force myself not to utter it aloud.

When it finally fades, I lie there breathless and horrified beneath the blankets.

My heart pounds. My body feels loose for the first time all day. My brain, traitor that it is, offers only one thought.

That was a terrible idea.

A very, very effective terrible idea.

I pull my hand free, clean myself up with tissues from the bedside table, then curl onto my side with my face burning in the dark.

I am not going to think about him tomorrow. I am not going to look at his hands. I am not going to remember his mouth. I am going to be normal.

I fall asleep while making these promises, which tells you everything you need to know about how likely I am to keep them.

When I wake, the room is still dark. For a few seconds, I don’t know what woke me.

Then my phone lights up on the bedside table. One message.

Unknown number.

My stomach turns cold before I even touch it. That’s ridiculous. It could be anything. A wrong number. Spam, probably since this is a brand-new number and nobody has it.

I reach for the phone anyway. The screen unlocks.

The message is short.

You think changing your number would send me away, bitch? Gotcha.

For a moment, I don’t move. The warmth from the blankets disappears. The softness in my body disappears. Every stupid, dangerous, glowing thing Nikolai’s mouth left inside me disappears.

I sit up slowly, staring at the screen until the words blur.