SAMANTHAThe water shut off, but I stood under it a few seconds longer, eyes closed, trying to breathe like a normal person.My skin was still humming, like every nerve remembered exactly what we did in the dark, twisted hours of the morning. Like it was still happening.I reached for the towel and stepped out, wrapping it around myself as the bathroom mirror slowly cleared.I wiped the fog with my palm and stared at the reflection staring back—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes too soft, too raw. That glow was definitely not from the steam.Mason’s soap lingered on my skin. The scent. The warmth. It was everywhere.I smelled like him, felt like him, still tasted like him.My body hadn’t caught up to the decision my head was trying to make. I should’ve left last night.I said I would. I made the vow in my head, over and over—just this once, no more mistakes, you owe Macey that much. And I meant it.Until his mouth brushed the back of my neck like it had a memory of its own, and my spin
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