The ibuprofen Yulia shoved at me every four hours kept the pain in my wrist down, but it did nothing to stop the throb between my legs. The heat inside rivaled the time I was pressed against a hotel door with Ronan’s thigh working me higher and higher. My mind hit rewind, taking me back to that night in Moscow and my stay thereafter. Something clicked into place. The realization hit me in the chest, and my fingers slipped down the spines. I turned to face him. “Why did you play with me for so long when you knew who my papa was from the beginning?” Ronan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. I knew why he’d waited so long to follow through with his plan of revenge. He liked me. Every yellow, rebellious, heart-on-my-sleeve inch of me. Xx An hour had passed since I walked out of the library and fell into bed. Sleep was now impossible to find. If it wasn’t my heart jumping to ridiculous conclusions, it was my body growing hotter with every brush of the covers. I kicked off the sheets, but I was still spun in a web of heat. With a groan of frustration, I rolled to my other side. My sleep shorts rode up, pulling tight between my thighs. I tried to ignore the way my clit tingled for friction, but all I could think about was how it felt when he went down on me and the roughness of his hands on my skin. My heart ran off course, my breaths becoming too tight to release. The longer I lay there, the more the fire and resentment burned. Ronan had taken my virginity, stepped on it like garbage, and I was just supposed to say thank you. Frustration seared the back of my neck. It felt like I was in some kind of limbo that wouldn’t end until he’d finished what he started. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to feel like this for the rest of my life.