“Sure,” Layna said.
I still didn’t trust her tone.
I could feel the weight of her gaze on me.
“Great. You order. I’m gonna find us both some jammies.”
Was I a coward who pretended to check something on my phone as I passed? Yep. But it was that or let her see my face.
Layna knew me too well.
And I wasn’t a very good liar.
She would read the guilt all over my face.
Then what?
Would she tell the others? Would pillow talk end up with my cousins knowing that Perish did the one thing he was forbidden to do? Put his hands on a princess.
No.
I couldn’t risk that.
He didn’t deserve that.
I’dbeggedfor goodness’ sakes.
And all he’d done was give. He took nothing.
Guilt churned in my belly as I forced my pace to be casual while I made my way down the short hall and into my bedroom.
I closed the door with a quiet click, then rushed into my closet, laying out pajamas on the bed for Layna before rushing across the hall into the bathroom.
“PJs are on the bed. I’ll be out in a minute!” I called.
Finally, I locked myself in the bathroom, where I leaned back against the door and exhaled hard.
So.
That just happened.
If I needed proof of it, one glance at the mirror showed me my gaping bodice that had been tight just that morning. Andwhen I stopped clutching my thighs, my ripped panties slid to the ground at my feet.
I bent down to gather them, then tossed them into the trash, burying them under tissues.
I could smell Perish all over me, that spicy scent that I wanted to breathe in all night. But I couldn’t risk Layna smelling it when she was already suspicious.
So I stripped and climbed into the shower, scrubbing him away, replacing him with my own scent.
Each inch of me still felt too sensitive, too receptive to touch. And if I closed my eyes and focused enough, I could almost feel his hands and lips and tongue still on me.
But for reasons I was choosing not to analyze, the memory made my chest constrict and my eyes burn.
So I forced them away.
As I dried off, I found there was one thing I couldn’t wash away, though.
Right there halfway up each thigh were faint, barely there bruises from where he’d gripped me, where his hands had sank in deeper when I moaned and writhed and begged for more.
