Chelsea
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Roman’s texts, heard his voice in my head calling me baby girl. My p***y stayed wet and aching all night. I came twice more, just rereading our messages, before I finally passed out.
Morning came too slow.
I walked into the kitchen still in my tiny sleep shorts and tank top, hair messy, pretending I was normal.
Mom was at the counter pouring coffee. Roman sat at the table scrolling through his phone, already dressed for work in dark scrubs that hugged his broad shoulders.
He didn’t even look up, but I felt his eyes on me anyway.
“Morning,” I mumbled, grabbing a yogurt from the fridge.
Mom smiled brightly. “Morning, sweetie. You look tired. Everything okay?”
I hesitated, then decided to go for it. I needed a reason. A real
