🔥Click to read more chapters👉🏻
A friend of a friend. Had it been too much to hope that their connection, as ambiguous as the title itself, might not curdle into this profound awkwardness? Frozen in place, Sylvia gazed at the sleeping face in the distance. His golden hair was disheveled like a child’s, his sun-kissed cheeks seemed to hold the very light of dawn, and his eyelashes swept long and low. It was a face she saw often, yet now, it felt as if she were stealing a glimpse of something deeply private. 'That must be it,' she reasoned, 'It's because he is asleep, lying facedown with his back entirely exposed.' A glance beneath the covers confirmed her fears: she was naked, and so was he. Worse, the memories of the night before were slowly surfacing, each one a testament to the undeniable truth that she had shared his bed. 'It is rather difficult to enter if you do not lift your hips, Sylvie.' 'I want to bite you… May I?' His uniquely soft tone, the velvety whisper of his voice… His moans, the touch of his hands, or rather a merciless grip, all came rushing back. "Did I truly…" Her voice, hoarse from overuse, uttered the words before failing her again. Recollections of how he had regarded her, how he had touched her in the darkness, the hand that had traveled up her leg, and the amber eyes that had shone so clearly in the moonlight. The memories made her want to sink into the linens and perish. 'How could we?' Sylvia curled into a ball, her hands tangled in her hair. It was not so much the 'how' that confounded her, but the 'why'. Alcohol, she knew, was the primary cause, but her true question was, of all the men in the world, why 'him'? This was a man she had known for five years, yet they had always maintained a careful distance, veiled by the awkward pretense of being a "friend of a friend." For that very reason, she could not simply sever the tie, even knowing this was a terrible mistake. So long as she remained by Heston’s side, she woul
