I couldn’t stay in that bed another second.
The room felt too small, the air thick with the lingering scent of Caleb’s skin and the memory of his fingers inside me. My body still hummed—raw, oversensitive, unfinished. Every shift of the sheets reminded me of the way he had tasted me on his own fingers, the dark hunger in his eyes as he watched me fall apart.
I slipped on a thin silk robe over my tank and shorts and stepped into the hallway, barefoot. The old wood was cold beneath my feet. Moonlight sliced through the window at the far end, painting jagged silver patterns across the worn carpet. The house was silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs.
I was halfway to the stairs when his door opened behind me.
The temperature in the hallway changed instantly. Cale
