The next twenty-four hours crawled like they were dipped in molasses. I woke up on the kitchen floor sometime after midnight, shorts still tangled around one ankle, fingers sticky, thighs slick, the taste of my own desperation still on my lips. Harlan’s name had been the last thing I moaned before I passed out. I hated how good it felt.
Morning came too bright. I dragged myself to the shower, stood under the spray until the water ran cold, trying to rinse away the shame and the want. It didn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I saw him, silver-streaked hair falling forward, dark eyes pinning me, that thick ridge pressing against my stomach like a promise. My n*****s pebbled under the cold water just thinking about it. My p***y gave a weak, greedy flutter. Traitor.
I spent the day preten
