The night is thick and breathless, pressing against my skin like a fever.
I lie on my bed, chest rising too fast, breaths catching—uneven, burning. Sweat gathers along my forehead, sliding down my temple. My fingers curl against the sheets before they fly to my chest, rubbing, pushing, trying to cool the ache blooming under my skin.
It only gets worse.
Too hot.
Too empty.
Too much.
A shiver runs through me, sharp as a blade. I grit my teeth, nails digging into my sternum as if pressure might hold me together. But it doesn't—not tonight.
His scent… even the memory of it stings behind my ribs.
Black orchid.
I want it. I want him.
I can't stay in this room another second.
Barefoot, I stumble off the bed. The cool marble of the hallway bites into my feet, but even that can't cut through the heat spiraling inside me. Every step down the stairs feels heavier, breath fogging in my throat, vision swimming.
By the time I reach the front door, I'm trembling.
I open it.
