***VERA***

Morning light crept through the curtains, brushing softly against my skin. I opened my eyes slowly, the memory of last night with Conry flooding back in gentle waves. He lay beside me, his face peaceful, untouched by the storm that had brought him here. I traced the outline of his hand, remembering how it had held me—steady, desperate, certain. The echoes of our closeness lingered like a whisper in my mind, blurring the line between pleasure and guilt. I should have pushed him ...