S** Tape
It hung low enough that she didn’t hesitate to push her arms out of the soaked sundress, peeling it from her damp skin.
She hesitated, glancing at him again.
He had pulled on his own sweatpants, his back still turned.
Exhaling shakily, she realized her bra was just as drenched as the dress—cold, uncomfortable, sticking to her like a second skin. She let out a breath, reached behind herself, and unhooked it, tugging it free before slipping it into the hoodie’s front pocket.
As she removed her panties, something caught her eye.
A sharp, piercing ache twisted through her chest as she looked down and saw it. A bloody stain, remnants of lubricant mixed with Wes’s bodily fluids.