Serena
I couldn't stop replaying what happened on that table.
No matter how fast I walked around my room or how many times I splashed cold water on my face, the memory stayed right there—right in the center of my mind.
Damien's mouth between my legs, his hands holding me still, his voice rough in my ear, and the way my whole body shook when I came.
I pressed my palms against the sink and stared at my reflection. My cheeks were still flushed. My lips were still swollen. My legs were still unsteady.
Every inch of me felt like his hands were still on my skin.
Three hours, he had said.
Three hours until the event.
I didn't know what scared me more—the event itself or the thought of being in the same car with him after what we did on the dining table.
I forced myself to breathe and pulled myself away from the mirror. There was no point trying to deny it anymore.
