There were bad ways to wake up. Then there were catastrophic ways to wake up. Then there was waking up straddling a stabbed dragon with your dress bunched up around your waist, your undergarments missing, and a purr vibrating through your entire skeleton.
Memory came back in fragments.
Did they—?
Holy shit.
She shoved off him. Immediately, he made a low sound of protest and the purring stopped. His arms raised trying to grab something but closed around air.
This man was STABBED. How the fuck had she ended up on top of a stabbed man?
Then she noticed his briefs were down and he was very hard. She froze, eyes widening. Her mouth parted. No words came out.
How in the hell did that fit inside of her?
That was not a question she was prepared to process standing up. Or sitting down. Or in any position. Especially the position she'd apparently been in.
Oh gods.
