Page 15 of Stalked & Bred by the BRATVA
And I didn’t wake up.
Or maybe… I did.
I glance down at myself. I’m still wearing the old cotton top I fell asleep in, but I feel exposed. Too hot. Too sensitive.
The air shifts.
I freeze.
There’s no sound. But I feel it.
Someone is still here.
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My throat is tight. My chest is rising too fast.
Then—
“Put it on.”
The voice is deep, low, and right beside me.
I gasp, spinning toward it, but I can’t see anything in the dark. I scramble backward across the bed, hitting the headboard with a soft thud.
“I won’t ask twice,” the voice says again, closer now. “Put it on.”
I should scream. I should run. But my body won’t obey. Instead, my fingers reach for the nightgown. They’re shaking. I’m shaking. But I gather the silk in my hands and slide off the bed. I don’t ask him to turn around. I don’t try to argue. I step into the bathroom and close the door behind me, leaning against it like it might keep him out even though I know it won’t.
I peel off my shirt. My skin is flushed, my nipples tight, my thighs slick.
I’ve never felt like this and I don’t understand it.
I slip the gown over my head. The silk slides down my body like water, clinging to my hips, brushing my nipples with a whisper of friction that makes me bite down on a moan.
I grip the edge of the sink, breathing hard.
What is wrong with me? Why do I want to go back in there?
I don’t wait for him to call again. I open the door.
He’s standing near the window now, tall and still, and the moonlight cuts across half his face. I see sharp cheekbones. A strong jaw. Eyes that burn like he’s already undressing me again with his stare.
He doesn’t speak. Just watches.
I take one step forward. Then another.
“You’ve been in my room,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“Yes.”
“You left the photo.”
“Yes.”
“The note.”
His head tilts slightly. “You kept them.”
I swallow. My hands are trembling again, but not from fear. From heat. From something I don’t have a name for.
