The last morning of the weekend came too quietly.
The ocean wind crept through the half-open curtains, brushing against my skin, carrying the salt and warmth of the water below. The sunlight touched the sheets still tangled around my legs, proof of what had happened again and again through the night. He lay beside me, one arm thrown across my waist like he owned the right to keep it there.
This was supposed to be simple. One weekend. One deal. One performance. But there was nothing simple about the way he touched me anymore.
I turned my head slightly. He was already awake, watching me with that same dark, unreadable gaze that had followed me since the first night. His hair was messy, his jaw shadowed, his lips still swollen from the way he kissed me hours ago. He didn’t look like a man
