The chamber felt smaller now, the air heavy with the aftermath—like the hush after a storm.
Kyle lay asleep on the bed, his chest rising and falling in slow, even rhythms, the flush of the aphrodisiac finally ebbed from his skin leaving it smooth and pale pink.
The candle flames burned low, casting long shadows that danced across the silk sheets, mocking Alex with their intimacy.
Alex stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at his hands. They were still warm, sticky with the evidence of what he'd done—what he'd helped Kyle do.
The residue clung to his palm, a glistening reminder of the line he'd toed but not crossed. Not fully.
But gods, it had been close.
Too close.
His pulse thrummed in his ears.
He needed space—distance from the boy whose trust had unraveled him.
With a glance to ensure Kyle remained undisturbed, Alex slipped through the side door into the bathroom. The heavy oak panel clicked shut behind him, sealing him in solitude.
