She lay face down.
Breathing.
The panty had fallen from her mouth at the impact, lying near her chin on the sheet, damp and ruined. Her lips were swollen. Her chin was wet. Her hair was everywhere.
Her legs — the inner thighs still glistening, the redness of her visible between them, the dark hair matted and pressed flat — were spread slightly by the positioning, the residual openness of a body that had been held in a particular position for a long time and hadn't fully closed yet.
The man stood.
He turned toward the door.
Toward Edric.
The violet eyes found him.
