/Zane's POV/
It's been a couple of days since that happened between me and Maddy, but it still feels like a dream—or probably what came to life was pure imagination.
Her warmth was real, I'm sure of it. The touch of her skin against mine, her melodious moan that pushed me closer to the edge each time, the tenderness of her skin against my palm, the heat I felt inside her, the pure ecstasy that came from that intimacy—every damn thing was real. There has to be some sort of mistake. It couldn't have been all in my head.
I was back in my clothes when I woke up, although I was still on the bed. Madison claimed I moved into bed myself, and with the traces of the night before gone, I almost thought I'd hallucinated the whole thing. The sheets were changed, the rumpled bed straightened—with signs of deliberate intervention, like someone had tried really hard to erase the traces.
