His Biggest Mistake Was Giving Me Away

It was already noon when I finally woke up again.

After getting dressed, I headed downstairs. Preston was in the living room, sipping his coffee.

His disdainful remarks from the night before echoed in my mind. The moment I saw him, my gaze sharpened with resentment.

Preston noticed me staring at him. He instinctively reached up to cover the love bites on his neck, but thought better of it and let his hand drop.

Instead, he grumbled, "Do you know what time it is? Why are you just coming down now?"

Suppressing the discomfort gnawing at me, I forced a smile. With one hand on my lower back, I strolled over and sat across from him.

"It's all your fault," I whined. "You were way too rough last night. I could barely keep up. And now, my back hurts."

As soon as I said it, Preston's grip faltered. His coffee mug tilted, and a few drops splashed onto his shirt.

I grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the stain for him. "What's wrong?" I asked, playing dumb.

His fingers tightened around the mug, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Still, he kept his tone casual.

"How did you feel last night?"

I quickly covered my face, feigning bashfulness. My voice turned coy as I answered, "Honey, you were amazing. I've never felt so satisfied."

Preston's jaw clenched as his teeth ground audibly. Even so, he managed to keep a composed front. "Never, huh?"

I pulled my hand away from his shirt and slid onto his lap. Lifting his chin with one finger, I teased, "I mean, you've always been great. But last night was something else."

I deliberately looked past Preston's darkening expression and continued reminiscing. "You were completely out of control last night. I lost count of how many times you finished, and you still wouldn't let me go."

His face tensed, the muscles tightening as he fought to keep his expression in check. Even the hand holding his coffee mug trembled uncontrollably.

With a loud clatter, Preston set his mug down. He then stood and straightened his clothes before muttering, "I'm heading out."

I batted my lashes at him sweetly. "Okay. I'll be right here waiting for you."

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. Without another word, he stormed out and never once looked back.

…

I hadn't even showered yet after everything that had happened the previous night. So, I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water, letting it wash away the traces still clinging to my body.

Not long after, I realized I had forgotten to bring in a towel.

I heard footsteps outside the door. Assuming it was Preston, I called out, "Preston, can you grab me my towel? It's the pink one on the couch."

There was no response, but I heard the footsteps retreat. I figured he had gone to get it.

Moments later, a hand finally reached into the bathroom, holding the towel. That was when I saw the scar. It was the exact same one I had seen on the back of Rowan's hand the night before.

My heart skipped a beat.

As I took the towel, I didn't notice the bar of soap under my foot, and I slipped.

In a flash, Rowan burst in. He managed to catch me by the waist.

We locked eyes. I was completely naked, frozen in the most painfully awkward position.

"I…" Rowan had just started to speak when a furious voice exploded behind him.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Preston roared.