Sophia flipped to her side, then her back, then her stomach. Jazz’s guest sheets were soft, lavender-scented, but nothing about them calmed her racing pulse. Every time she shut her eyes, her mind betrayed her — replaying the heat of Nate’s hands, the sound of his voice gone ragged as he whispered her name, the way her body had answered him without hesitation.
It should’ve been enough to leave her boneless, content. Instead, it left her raw, restless.
She dragged the blanket up to her chin, squeezing her eyes shut. But all she saw was the way he’d left — phone pressed to his ear, jaw locked, walking out like everything they’d just shared was a moment he could shrug off.
She hated him for that. And God, she hated herself more for still wanting him.
The glow of her phone taunted her from
