After class, I could barely drag myself back to the room. My entire body felt heavy with exhaustion, the weight of sleepless nights pulling me down. Eva tried to convince me to eat something, but I waved her off. All I wanted was sleep—nothing else mattered.
Collapsing into my bed, I sank into the sheets, finally feeling the comfort I'd been craving all day. Sleep came quickly, and with it, a strange and vivid dream that left me gasping for air.
In my dream, I was tied to my bed, my wrists bound to the headboard, and a soft cloth covered my eyes. I could sense a presence approaching, the weight of his steps sending tremors through me. The air around me thickened with anticipation as he climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress. His hands firmly gripped my ankles, parting my legs with deliberate care. A shiver ran down my spine as his fingers grazed my bare thigh, sending a cascade of sensations coursing through my body.
His touch was both firm and teasing as he moved upwards, squeezing my thigh possessively before positioning himself between my legs. The sound of fabric tearing pierced the silence as my shirt was ripped open, exposing me to him completely. I gasped, my chest rising and falling with nervous energy as he took his time, his eyes drinking in every inch of my bare skin.
He leaned down, kissing a path along my thigh before biting down gently, the sensation sharp but somehow exhilarating. He continued upward, his warm mouth exploring my stomach, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. When he reached my breasts, his lips encircled my nipple, his breath hot and ragged. I flinched slightly when his teeth grazed me—not too hard, but enough to elicit a soft moan from deep within me.
His hands were everywhere, one sliding down my body as the other massaged my breast, his fingers pinching the sensitive skin until I whimpered against his relentless attention. He was kissing me with a wild hunger, his mouth claiming mine in a way that left me breathless. I couldn't keep up with him—he was too fierce, too demanding. He devoured me, his lips and tongue exploring every corner of my mouth with a feverish intensity.
His fingers moved lower, finding their way between my legs, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through me. I was helpless, my body moving in rhythm with his fingers as they teased and entered me. The sensations overwhelmed me, my moans echoing in the room as he worked me with skilled precision. I wanted to reach for him, to pull him closer, but my hands remained bound. All I could do was surrender to the waves of pleasure crashing over me.
His breathing grew ragged, and I felt the tension build between us as he positioned himself above me. In one swift motion, he entered me, and I gasped at the sudden fullness, my body instinctively arching toward him. He didn't stop, his movements relentless as he thrust into me over and over, his mouth never leaving my skin. His lips found my breast once more, sucking and biting as he drove me to the edge.
Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, he removed the cloth from my eyes, and I gasped, staring into the familiar face.
"Zayn," I whispered, my voice trembling.
Suddenly, I woke, my heart pounding in my chest and my breath shallow. I lay still for a moment, disoriented by the intensity of the dream. Then, I realized the heat between my legs, the dampness under the covers. I was still trembling as I sat up, running a hand through my hair.
Eva glanced up from her book, studying me from across the room. "You okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"Yeah," I muttered, forcing a smile. "Just a weird dream."
Without another word, I slipped out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, the dream still haunting me as I stepped into the shower.
Once I was in the shower, I let the warm water run over me, hoping it would wash away the lingering tension from the dream. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget the way Zayn had looked at me in that dream—the intensity of his gaze, the way he seemed to own me with just a look.
I couldn't explain it. I didn't understand why I had dreamed of him, of all people. Zayn was trouble, and I had no reason to be thinking about him, let alone dreaming about him in such a vivid and unsettling way.
As I stood under the water, I tried to shake the feeling that had settled deep in my chest—the sense that this dream, this encounter, wasn't just a random product of my exhausted mind. It felt like something more, something I couldn't quite understand.
And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about him.