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Those same fingertips fluttered over my lips. “Don’t. Please don’t ruin it.”

My throat closed off, and I tamped off all the apologies I wanted to issue, trying to formulate something that I could say. “I⁠—”

“I know, Trevan. I know.”

My brow pinched in pain.

Did she?

Could she fully understand?

“I don’t regret it. Not at all. And it would break my heart if you did.” Sincerity filled her features, eyes penetrating in their petition.

I blinked down at her through the shame. “Wish I was a different man.”

Her head shook on the mattress, black locks strewn across the plum-colored covers.

Face so pretty that it felt like I was staring at eternity.

“I don’t,” she murmured.

We stayed there for the longest time. Swimming in this gutting awareness. At what we both wanted and what could never be.

When I could no longer stay in the weight of it, I cleared my throat and looked around her room like I was hunting for an answer.

Because what the fuck was I supposed to do now?

How the hell was I supposed to act after that?

After knowing how soft she was? After inhaling her decadent, lust-inducing scent? After knowing the sounds she made when she came?

I eased back, painfully cognizant of the wad she’d left in my underwear.

Shit.

What a fucking mess I’d gotten myself into.

Literally.

Getting greedy.

Taking what wasn’t mine.

Wanting so much more of it.

Part of me wanted to take the easy way out, tuck tail and go hide in the bathroom so I could lick the macerated wounds that had ripped open inside me.

But I couldn’t just walk out on her like this.

Shut myself behind a door like a pathetic coward who couldn’t face what he’d done.

So, I edged off the edge of the bed.

Towering high while Elena remained lying sideways across her bed.

That skirt bunched up around her waist.

Her legs bent at the knees and her pussy still bare.