Evan Lee's POV
Ahh… a groan slips past my lips as my eyes flutter open. The ceiling above me blurs into focus, painted in the dim light spilling through half-drawn curtains. My lips are dry, my throat raw. When I try to move, pain lances through my body — sharp, deep, impossible to ignore.
God… my lower body aches like it's been torn apart. My limbs feel heavy, boneless, as if every ounce of strength has been drained out of me.
"What the hell…" I whisper, voice hoarse.
The room still carries a faint trace of him — that black orchid scent, dark and intoxicating, clinging to the sheets and to my skin. The memories crawl back like a fever: the heat, the taste of his lips, the way his voice slid into my ear like silk and fire.
My eyes snap open.
No. No, I didn't—
But I did.
I slept with him again.
And this time, he didn't take me by force.
I'm the one who begged.
My chest tightens. Shame floods my body, burning hotter than the fire. I cover my face with my hands, trembling.
