Anna lay tangled in Mark’s arms, the scent of sex, sweat, and Leo’s cologne filling her lungs. It was a filthy, intoxicating perfume. Mark’s hand was stroking her hair, a slow, rhythmic motion that was both comforting and possessive.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, his voice a low whisper against her temple.

Anna turned her head to look at him. His eyes were searching her face, looking for any sign of regret. She saw none of that in herself. All she felt was a profound, bone-deep satisfaction and a buzzing, electric energy.

"I'm more than okay," she said, her voice still husky. "I feel... alive."

A slow...