Ella:
I closed my bedroom door softly behind me and leaned against it, the hollow click of the latch sounding too final. Like it locked in the shame and guilt swirling in my gut.
The shower had rinsed away the smell of sweat, smoke, and sin, but it hadn’t scrubbed out the mess in my head. Or the bruises. Or the phantom grip I still felt when I looked at the handprint blooming red on my hip. My fingers brushed over it now, peeking from the waistband of my cotton shorts. I flinched and pulled the hoodie tighter around me.
What the hell did I do?
Raiden.
His name was a whisper of heat in my mind, like the echo of his voice in my ear, low and possessive, murmuring filth that made my thighs clench. I could still feel the way his hands moved over me like I was something he owned. The bruise
