Morning light slips through the curtains, soft and warm, brushing across the bed. I blink a few times, not sure where I am, until I feel his arm around my waist. Then it all rushes back. Last night. Zane. What we did.
I turn my head and look at him. His face is peaceful. For once, he looks like he’s actually resting. The stress lines that always shadow his features, especially since Ava died, are gone. My chest tightens just looking at him.
The memories flood in, his drunk, broken voice, those blue eyes pulling me in like I was the only person who mattered, his lips on mine, his hands, the way he held me close. Then the worst part. The name he whispered when he came.
Ava.
What the hell did I just do?
I shift slightly and flinch. I’m sore. It happened. It was real. I’m not a virgin any
