I dragged my hand down my face again.
Smirked at the mirror.
And muttered.
“God help me. Because I’m not stopping.”
I stood there for another breathless second, palm still pressed to the drawer like it had taken something from me. Maybe it had. Maybe it was safer that way.
Safer if I didn’t look at those panties again tonight. Safer if I didn’t open that drawer again in the next ten minutes and take them back out just to smell her all over again.
Because I would.
I f*****g would.
And I needed to get a grip.
I turned back to the room, dragging a hand down my face and eyeing the bed.
The sheets were ruined.
Completely.
There was a wet, dark spot in the center where her virgin blood had soaked through, ringed in the mess of my c*m and sweat and everything else I’d left behind in
