Klara stood frozen outside the master suite door, one palm pressed flat against the wall, as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.

She hadn’t meant to watch or stay that long.

She’s been listening for too long—long enough to hear Tessa come twice, long enough to know Roman wasn’t angry, wasn’t rough, wasn’t proving a point.

He was making love to her. Nothing violent. Nothing angry. Just love.

Raw, pure, sickening love.

Inside, the sounds had finally quieted: soft murmurs, Tessa’s sleepy laugh, Roman’s low voice teasing for another round.

Klara’s thighs were still trembling.

She had come twice, silent and shameful, fingers shoved between her legs...