POV: Clara

The storm had faded to a curtain of rain, a steady, cold torment. Each drop resonated with what I’d already said — the desperation in my voice that night, my body seizing around him, my denial turned to ash.

Daniel hadn’t moved. The knot that held me to him, wide and heavy, was still wedged into my base. Despite the dying storm, my thighs were trembling, my nails were digging into his wet shirt, and every little shallow twitch of his was wringing out another word ...