Ethan had always been a light sleeper, the kind of person who tossed and turned at the slightest noise. But ever since moving into this apartment, his nights had been anything but peaceful.
It wasn't the creaky pipes or the distant hum of the city that kept him awake—it was her.
Sienna had taken up residence in his mind, haunting his thoughts even when his eyes were closed. It had started subtly—an idle daydream here, a fleeting thought there. But now, it had taken root, growing into something he couldn't ignore.
And then, there were the dreams.
In them, she was always just out of reach. Sometimes, she was laughing at him, teasing as she always did, her lips curling into that playful smirk that made his stomach twist. Other times, she was closer—so close he could feel her breath against his skin, smell the faint traces of vanilla and smoke. In those dreams, she whispered things he couldn't quite remember when he woke up, but the heat of them lingered, making his pulse race.
Tonight was no different.
Ethan found himself caught in a dream where the world had softened into something unreal. Sienna stood in his apartment, a vision of silk and shadows, the dim lighting casting a golden glow on her skin. He didn't know how she had gotten there, only that she was there—watching him with that knowing gaze, the one that saw right through him.
"Why do you always run away?" she murmured, stepping closer.
"I don't," he tried to say, but his voice was weak, uncertain.
She smirked, lifting a single finger to his chest, tracing an invisible pattern over his shirt. "Liar."
Ethan swallowed hard. He wanted to step back, to put some space between them, but his feet were rooted in place. His body betrayed him, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
"You're so easy to read," she continued, her voice a purr. "You think I don't notice the way you look at me?"
His breath caught. "I don't—"
Her fingers trailed up to his jaw, tilting his face toward hers. "You do."
The moment stretched between them, electric and dangerous. Her lips were inches from his, her body close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out any rational thought.
Her lips parted slightly, her breath feather-light against his mouth. Ethan could almost taste her—warm, intoxicating, forbidden. His hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach for her, to pull her closer, to close the impossible distance between them.
But before he could move, her expression shifted. The smirk faded, replaced by something softer, something unreadable.
"Do you want me, Ethan?" she whispered.
His throat felt tight, words refusing to form. But his body answered for him.
A flicker of amusement danced in her eyes, and just as suddenly as she had closed the distance, she stepped away. "Too bad," she murmured. "You don't even know what you're asking for."
Then, as if she were made of smoke, she vanished.
Ethan jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his entire body tense and coiled. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his skin damp with sweat. It took him a moment to remember where he was—to distinguish the dream from reality.
Just a dream. Just a dream.
But it didn't feel like just a dream.
Dragging a hand down his face, he groaned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The ghost of her touch still burned on his skin, the sound of her voice still echoed in his mind. He swallowed hard, trying to shake the lingering sensation, but it clung to him like a second skin.
This was getting out of hand.
It was one thing to be attracted to Sienna—it was another thing entirely to be dreaming about her like this.
Shoving the covers aside, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed his temples. He needed a distraction. Maybe a book. Maybe some cold water. Maybe… something that didn't involve her.
But as he stood and paced the small apartment, his body still thrummed with the aftershocks of the dream. No amount of cold water or distraction could erase the way it had felt—the way she had looked at him, the way her voice had wrapped around him like silk.
And the worst part? A small, treacherous part of him wished he hadn't woken up at all.