The fifth day without Amina pressed down on the house like a heavy fog. The rain had softened to a misty drizzle that blurred the windows of the Maple Lane home in Willow Creek, Washington. Inside, the silence felt alive, thick with guilt and unspoken fear.
I woke tangled in Elias’s arms, my body still tender and slick from the slow, deep way he had taken me in the early hours. His c*m still leaked warmly between my thighs, a secret reminder of how desperately we clung to each other while everything else unraveled.
Elias pulled me closer, his arm locked possessively around my waist. His thumb traced slow circles on my hip. “Morning, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion. “I keep replaying her face when she walked out. But then I feel you here, and all I can think is how right t
