Evan asked about the previews again before I’d even finished my coffee.
He was still in the T-shirt he’d slept in, hair messy, scrolling with one thumb while the other rested on my bare knee under the table. The kitchen was bright. Normal. The kind of morning that should have felt safe. It didn’t.
“Julian’s usually faster than this,” he said, not looking up. “You sure everything went okay at the shoot? He didn’t say anything weird, did he?”
I smiled over the rim of my mug. The lie sat easy on my tongue now. “He said he wanted a few more. We’re doing another session tonight.” Between my legs I was still slick from last night—Julian’s load and Evan’s mixed and shifting every time I crossed my thighs. The thin cotton of my sleep shorts clung. I could feel it if I paid attention. I was payi
