Reaching my room, I shut the door behind me, the wood banging louder than I intended. My knees gave out, and I slumped to the floor, my back pressed against the solid door. Every nerve in my body bristled with an unsatisfied ache that refused to fade.
"What was that?" I whispered, sinking my face into my trembling hands. My cheeks burned, my skin flushed from more than just embarrassment. The heat coursing through me was relentless, pooling low in my abdomen, teasing every inch of me.
The memory of Atlas stood vividly in my mind, every detail of his wet, glistening skin etched into my consciousness. My thighs pressed together involuntarily, a futile attempt to ease the insistent throbbing at my core. Instead, the ache deepened, a tantalizing reminder of what I craved but dared not name.
"This isn't real," I murmured, dragging my hands down my flushed face. "It's just an agreement. None of this is real."
