Page 75 of Symphony for Lies

Even in sleep, his body sensed my movement. His fingers twitched, and his arm flexed, pulling me slightly closer before he sighed softly and loosened his hold.

I barely breathed as I slid away, the loss of his warmth making me shiver as I sat up, wincing at the soreness between my thighs.

My body ached everywhere. Muscles I didn’t know could hurt pulsed with a dull throb, a constant reminder of everything we had done.

I hastily gathered my scattered clothes, minus my ruined blouse, before slipping into the bathroom.

The moment I shut the door behind me, I exhaled and gripped the edge of the sink for support when my legs became unsteady.

My reflection in the mirror stared back at me, disheveled, untamed, and utterly wrecked. My lips were swollen, my skin flushed and littered with deep, possessive marks. His marks.

I swallowed hard, pressing a shaky hand to my chest as if I could steady the erratic beat of my heart.

What the hell had gotten into me?

Who even was I?

Heat rushed to my face as flashes of the night surged in my mind—Zane’s touch, his mouth, the way he had taken me apart like he had been starving for me. Like he needed me.

I gritted my teeth, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water onto my face, hoping it would douse the lingering fire beneath my skin.

It didn’t.

I cleaned myself up as much as possible and dressed quickly, desperate to leave before he woke up.

My gaze flickered to the broken piano bench when I entered the dark living room. That fucking bench had caused everything. Yeah… I was blaming an inanimate object.

The books, the entire reason I had come to Zane’s place, were forgotten entirely on the floor.

I didn’t take a single one. I just wanted to get the hell out. I slipped my shoes on, grabbed my jacket, and walked out, shutting the door behind me as softly as possible.

The cool night air hit my skin, sharp and biting, making my mind clearer for the first time since I had woken up.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of his touch still imprinted on my skin, and started walking.

At least I knew where I needed to go.

Stacy lived just two streets away. I needed a friend to talk to. Someone who wouldn’t judge me.

I rang her doorbell, shifting on my feet, barely holding in the whirlwind of emotions clawing at my chest.

A few moments later, the door swung open, revealing Stacy in an oversized T-shirt, her red hair tied in a loose bun, and remnants of a green face mask still smudged on her cheek.

Her eyes widened in shock. “Amelia?”

Without hesitation, she yanked me inside, shutting the door behind us.

“I was not expecting you tonight.” She stepped back, giving me a once-over before narrowing her eyes.

I knew what she saw—the tangled hair, the bite marks, the flushed skin.

“I had sex with Zane.” The words tumbled from my lips in a rush before she could comment.

Silence.

Stacy blinked. Once. Twice.

“Okay. Wait. Am I dreaming? Or did you just say what I think you just said?”