(Chelsea's POV)

Two days passed since we left Paris, yet I still felt the warmth of his fingers on my skin and swore that I could still smell his cologne even in the bed I slept in at home like it haunted me.

It was ridiculous.

A whole night ago, I woke up gasping after a pathetic dream. Him pressing me against a wall again. His hand on my thigh, his mouth devouring mine. Everything had felt too real. Humiliation burned my skin when I woke up soaked between my legs because it made me feel even more pathetic. I’d cried afterward with my pillow pressed over my face and...