Delilah stayed in bed most of the day, pretending to sleep. Pretending her thighs weren’t sore. Pretending her sheets didn’t smell like him. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, the memory of his hands still ghosting across her skin. Her n*****s ached. Her thighs trembled every time she shifted. She should’ve felt guilt. Shame. Horror. But all she felt was empty.
And wet.
Soaking wet from the moment she woke up.
Because her body remembered what her mind tried to erase. The sting of the wall at her back. His rough fingers parting her. The taste of his breath in her mouth. She wanted to tell herself it was a mistake. Just a one-time thing. But when her phone buzzed and she saw his name on the screen — Lennox — her stomach clenched.
You left your towel in the guesthouse. Want it b
