I didnât breathe.
I couldnât.
My lungs refused to work, my chest too tight, too full of everything I couldnât say. The ache between my legs was still alive, still pulsing like a second heartbeat. Shame curled its claws into me, but so did something worse. Something deeper. Something dirtier.
Desire.
My robe was halfway open, clinging to my slick skin, exposing my thigh, my breast, the curve of my stomach still twitching with aftershocks I hadnât earned.
And Tasha?
Tasha was standing there, sweat glowing on her skin, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, and her eyes locked onto me like I was something sheâd stepped in.
âLyra?!â
Her voice cut through me like a lash.
It didnât sound like a best friendâs voice.
It didnât sound like concern.
It sounded like accusation.
It s
