Annabel's POV
The silence after the door slammed was deafening. I stayed frozen on the bed, one hand still twisted in the rumpled blanket, the other hovering near my stomach like it was mid-reach and forgot what it was reaching for. The sheets beneath me were warm, too warm, and my skin still prickled from the ghost of his hands, the weight of his body pressed over mine.
Justin sat on the edge of the mattress, elbows digging into his knees, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. His head hung low, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor, like it held the answers to whatever the hell just happened.
My fingers went to my lips. They felt swollen. Real. I couldn’t look at him. I could still feel his weight on me, still feel the press of his hips against mine, the way my body had opened for him
