Abigail stirred the moment her alarm clock went off at eight. The sound cut through her sleep, pulling her into wakefulness.
She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the morning light spilling through the curtains. Her eyes felt heavy with exhaustion, and for a moment, she couldn't remember why.
Then, the memory of last night rushed back. Her breath hitched. A shiver ran down her spine as she rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the sudden chill creeping over her skin.
The thought of Ryan being in her room, sitting on her bed, watching her sleep—it made her stomach turn. She felt sick. Dirty. Disgusted.
Should she confront him? Should she demand to know what he wanted? What he was thinking coming to her room at that time of the night?
No.
