Sophia’s POV
Alexander moves. He stretches his right hand, and a phone’s screen comes on.
Mine.
Unblinking, I stare at the screensaver—a picture of me hugging my dad.
My lungs shut instantly, dread warming my face.
What have I done?
“I need to take you home,” he mutters and drops the phone. But not before I see the time.
It’s 08:33 P.M.
Wait!
My heart suddenly drums.
Did he record us?
I join my hands together and begin digging a nail into my index finger, trying to replay what happened before we got into it.
I was with his phone. He couldn’t possibly have recorded. I don’t think he did.
“Sophia?”
“Mm,” I answer, going still on him.
I feel moistness between my thighs—evidence of the line I’ve crossed. It sends a tightness to my chest.
His hard body rises and falls agains
