Book 8: Morning After

Kenna

I’ve been lying on my side looking out the window for hours. I haven’t slept a wink. 

I curl my knees into my belly, nuzzling deeper into the flannel print sheets in one of Ryan’s guestrooms. It’s 6:00 in the morning. We didn’t get back to his house until well after 1:00. 

And I haven’t moved from this position. 

I run my fingers over my mouth, closing my eyes at the memory of the kiss–my first kiss. My first kiss ever. 

That’s probably why the whole thing felt so magical. Being pressed against a wall and ravaged by a masked stranger was the most delicious thing that’s ever happened to me. 

So, that’s probably all it was. Shocking, delicious, and desperately wanted. 

Not the mate bond. 

Right?

I roll onto my back and look at the ceiling. Milky streams of morning light start poking through the blinds, dancing across the textured ceiling hanging over my head. I can feel the