Miranda's POV
I woke up smiling like an idiot.
My face was still buried in the pillow, but the memory of his mouth on mine lit me up from the inside. Colton's kiss wasn't just warm—it was wildfire. My fingers brushed my lips as if I could replay it, taste him again.
"He kissed me," I whispered quietly, my voice still husky from sleep.
Then the smile cracked.
I sat up fast, heart hammering, the air in the room suddenly too sharp.
He hadn't said a word since. I hadn't seen him this morning. He didn't knock on the door either.
No I want you. No last night meant something.
Just...silence.
"You idiot," I muttered to myself, throwing the covers off. "You're supposed to be his...sex slave, not his damn girlfriend. But he hasn't tried to have sex with me? What if that kiss was just a game? A trick to keep you soft?"
But the thought didn't land. Not fully.
Because some traitorous part of me whispered, What if he wants you to be his?
And worse?
