Steam still clung to the bathroom mirrors as Eleanor stepped out, wrapping a plush robe around her trembling body.
The shower's heat had done little to wash away the fresh layer of guilt or the lingering ache between her thighs, where Calder's c**k had just claimed her again, right under the shadow of her husband's voice on the phone.
She avoided her reflection, afraid of the woman staring back. Water dripped from her hair, pooling on the marble floor as she moved to the bedroom, the sheets still twisted from their morning frenzy.
Rhys was already half dressed, leaning against the dresser in his unbuttoned shirt and slacks, watching her with that unreadable intensity.
His hair was tousled, chest still damp, the faint scent of her arousal clinging to his skin despite the soap. He look
