The last dying rays of the sun slanted through the blinds, gilding the caramel-colored walls and the skin of the man slumped over her. Sleepy, sated, Athena decided it was a helluva view. At some point during the main event, Logan had shifted from holding her wrists down to threading his fingers with hers. They were still laced together, and he was still inside her, his face pressed into her throat. His heart thudded dully against hers, a strangely comforting echo of her own racing pulse. Normally, she wanted space after s*x, not cuddles. But she wasn’t in any hurry for him to move.
As she lay sweaty and exhausted, still pinned beneath him, she realized the power of her own self-delusion. In her months with Jayson, she’d convinced herself things in the bedroom had been good, that she’d be
