Chapter 77
The sound of the shower poured endlessly against the tiles, rich with the fragrance of body wash and perfume, the steam wrapping the air in soft curls that carried out into the quiet room where Celeste was cleansing off.
Larry sat in the rough bed, legs spread wide like a satisfied, defeated man.
The bedsheet hung loosely over his torso—barely covering his naked body that gleamed faintly under the sunlight spilling from the open window.
The light broke through the glass, cutting soft golden lines across his shoulders and face, catching the sheen of sweat that lingered like proof of what had happened moments ago.
The air was dense, mixed with the sharp scent of expensive cologne, sweat, and the faint musk of sex—heady and unrelenting.
The room itself was a battlefield of lust and aftermath; the sheets rumpled and soaked in patches of sweat and dried semen, clothes and undergarments tossed carelessly on the floor like forgotten casualties of pleasure.
