Morning light cut across the guest-room floor in thin gold strips.

I woke to the ache between my legs and the memory of him still inside me. The door stood open exactly as he’d left it. My brother’s T-shirt was twisted around my waist. The sheets smelled like sex and Dominic’s skin.

I sat up slowly. My thighs felt sticky. When I shifted, a dull, satisfying soreness reminded me exactly how hard he’d taken me.

Footsteps in the hallway.

Dominic appeared in the doorway already dressed in black joggers and a dark hoodie, hair still damp from a shower. He leaned against the frame the same way he had the...