Elena's POV
I turned the lock and retreated to my bed, clutching the duvet against my chest like armor.
A shaky breath escaped me—please don't let Dorian change his mind and return.
The wetness between my legs was unmistakable, slick evidence clinging to my inner thighs without even needing to check.
My gaze found Oliver already sound asleep beside me, and shame crashed over me again from his earlier interruption.
I burrowed deeper under the covers, desperate to escape the mortifying memory.
"That boy," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut against the persistent ache.
Another exhale, and I pressed my thighs together, trying to dull the throbbing. Months without intimacy—I could endure one more night.
Fatigue crept through my bones, and despite my resistance, it claimed me and I slipped into sleep.
Morning arrived with sharp knocking.
I shifted in bed, instantly alert.
"Just a moment," I called groggily, stumbling toward the door.
