Tyler POV
I shot up in bed, the remnants of a vivid, almost too-real dream clinging to my mind. I had kissed Han and he kissed me back. The taste of his lips still lingered, a strange but addictive blend of cinnamon and whiskey. His whiskey-brown eyes had looked straight through me.
"Fuck," I muttered, glancing down and instinctively yanking the sheet over myself. What the hell was that? I couldn't even kiss Anne, yet here I was, dreaming about Han. Dreaming of his mouth on mine like I needed it.
"Damn it," I hissed, turning to the other side of the bed. It was warm. Deeply warm. Like someone had slept there beside me. I don't toss and turn—never have. Which meant someone had definitely been here last night.
"What is happening?" I whispered, brushing my fingers over my lips. They felt tender. Swollen. My body was relaxed in a way I hadn't felt in ages like every ounce of tension had finally melted off me. I touched my head, trying to piece it together. What happened last night?
