7
Zara
I should have been satisfied after what happened in the kitchen, the way he touched me, took me, made me unravel all over his fingers and c**k. I should have felt some kind of calm. Release. Maybe even guilt.
But I didn’t feel any of that.
Instead, I woke up this morning with a different kind of ache crawling up my spine and curling around my throat. It wasn’t just about him.
Michael.
The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. The way he buried himself in me like he was losing himself. The way his hands held me like they belonged there.
And now, the way he was smiling at her.
I’d gone to the balcony off the upstairs study for some fresh air. That’s when I saw them.
Michael was out front, leaning against the hood of the Range Rover, his arms folded, casual an
