Chloe did not sleep after he closed the door.

She lay on her back in the dark, t-shirt twisted around her waist, the heavy weight of her breasts rising and falling too fast. Every time she closed her eyes she felt his hand under them again — the slow squeeze, the deliberate brush of his thumb over her nipple. The ache between her legs refused to fade. She pressed her thighs together and tried to breathe through it.

Morning came thick with humidity and silence.

Her mother left early for a double shift. The note on the counter said she would not be back until after ten. Chloe stared at...