I stood there, shaky hands attempting to operate the lock that was taunting my desperation. My heart was racing against my chest, every frantic beat buzzing in my ears, a steady reminder of Darian's touch—his fingers' imprint still on my skin like an unforgivable sin.
The room was heavy with his presence, thick with the musky undertones of his cologne that blended with the sweet smell of sweat we'd both worked up in our wild, stolen moments.
"What had I done?" He had slipped out the window just minutes before, leaving me to struggle with the weight of my guilt.
Just as I attempted to gather my thoughts, I had to glance about the room once more before I opened the door. My eyes swept the room, taking in the proof of my sin: my dress, clinging to me in wrinkled disarray; my hair, a sweat
