MIYARA’S POVThe steaks hissed and popped behind me, forgotten. The kitchen smelled of burnt meat and danger.Caden’s phone screen glowed between us, freezing me in place. My own voice, breathy, desperate, filthy — spilled from the tiny speaker again and again. “Please… harder… yes, like that…”I wanted to claw my skin off. How come I never remembered any of this?His thumb hovered over the volume, threatening to turn it louder. My heart slammed so hard I thought it would crack a rib.“Please,” I whispered again, the word tasting bitter in my mouth. “Turn it off.”He didn’t.Instead, he stepped closer until the heat of his body swallowed mine. The counter dug into my lower back. I had nowhere to go. His free hand slid up my bare thigh slowly, deliberately. Fingers rough from whatever life he’d lived these past six years. Calluses scraped my skin and I hated how my thighs clenched on instinct. What was wrong with me? I should be disgusted. Appalled. Yet what I felt was neither of the
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