Evelyn's POV
I’m not sure if it was Julian’s skill or his aftercare—or maybe both—but when I finally dragged myself upright from the bed, I felt an embarrassingly inappropriate little pang of longing. Like finishing a ridiculously delicious midnight snack, knowing it’s bad for you but still itching for just one more bite.
I stared at him for a moment, still asleep, breathing evenly, looking calm and harmless—like a completely different person from a few hours ago. I squashed that dangerous little softness in my chest as fast as closing a misclicked app.
No. This isn’t right.
A proper lover knows when to let go and when to walk away. Not get all sentimental after just a couple rounds and start imagining this “cozy domestic life” script. That’s not romance—that’s asking for trouble.
Jul
