Giselle stirred awake, the sheets tangled around her legs, a deep, satisfied ache pulsing between her thighs.
For the first time in months, she'd slept like a baby, no nightmares or endless arguments.
Clothes littered the floor—her robe, his boxers, a trail leading to the bathroom where the shower still ran.
She wondered when he came back into the room last night as she stretched, arms overhead, back arching as a soft moan escaped her lips, her body remembering Chase's rough thrusts from last night.
But then the buzzing started. His phone on the nightstand vibrated relentlessly, lighting up with notifications.
She reached over, snatching it up, thumb swiping the screen.
Texts from 'Monica' flooded in, each one dirtier than the last. 'Baby, I'm so sorry I snapped. Let me make it
