~Heidi's Point Of View~
Heidi lies on her side, the thin sheet twisted somewhere around her calf, staring at the wall like it might give her back the ability to think straight. Her body is still droning… no, shaking with aftershocks, like every nerve of her's been rewired to remember him. Her thighs ache in a way that makes her blush, and there's a stubborn little soreness between them that's as mortifying as it is satisfying.
She can still feel his weight over her, the heat of his skin, the low, and yet, sharp way he'd said her name. The way his mouth had pulled at her breast until she had clutched at his hair like it was the only thing keeping her anchored. She bites the inside of her cheek because she refuses… fuckingrefuses to be that girl who spends the rest of the day with her mind in the sheets.
It's ridiculous. She swore off men after her first time. That was supposed to be it; her one awkward, catastrophic, and thoroughly disappointing encounter.
