"Huh?"
Kaida stared at the splintered wood in her hand. The ornate frame—thick, carved oak that had probably survived decades—looked like she'd crushed a biscuit.
Her mouth opened and closed. No words came out.
Behind her, Mira's reflection appeared in the cracked mirror, arms crossed under her massive chest, that infuriating knowing smile on her lips.
"Still think I'm lying?"
Kaida spun around, pieces of the frame falling from her grip. "What the hell did you do to me?!"
"Me?" Mira placed a hand on her chest, feigning innocence. "I didn't do anything. That was all him."
"Don't—" Kaida's voice cracked. She cleared her throat, trying again. "Don't lie for that bastard, Mira. What is this? Some kind of trick to make me sleep with him again?"
The words tumbled out harsh, defensive. Because deep down, Kaida wanted him. Wanted to feel that overwhelming pleasure again, wanted his hands on her body, his cock—
No. Stop.
