{GIANNA}
Walking down the hallway back to my room without stumbling takes every ounce of strength I possess. My legs feel boneless, my joints all liquid from that powerful orgasm.
I press a hand over my still-racing heart as I open the door and slip inside. Without Michael. But honestly, despite craving more, I'm secretly grateful for the space. As much as I wanted him to follow me here—to pin me to the mattress and pick up right where we left off—I needed some distance from him.
I've had sex before—twice, with the same man—and both times I thought I knew what satisfaction felt like. But those experiences pale in comparison to what just happened with Michael. And we didn't even have actual sex. Yet. My pulse kicks up just thinking about it as I collapse face-first on the bed.
