Only Ten Days
Copyright© 2025 by Kacey Loveington
Chapter 2
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - The experiment was controlled. Her desire wasn’t. Ten days. One couple. One stranger. No clothes. It begins as a simple experiment in vulnerability — but desire doesn’t follow rules. When Sophie and Chuck agree to test their relationship, they don’t expect the tension, the tasks… or Malik. What starts as a game quickly becomes something far more intimate.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Cuckold Sharing Wife Watching Group Sex Swinging Interracial Black Male White Male White Female White Couple Oral Sex Voyeurism Size Nudism
Author’s Note:
This chapter marks a small but intentional shift in tone. While this story has primarily explored heterosexual intimacy, Chapter 2 touches on themes of curiosity, submission, and emotional complexity—including a brief but significant moment of bi-curious confusion from Charles. This is not the dominant focus of the story, but it is part of his evolving arc of vulnerability, power, and identity as the story progresses in this chapter and beyond. If that’s outside your usual taste, I encourage you to read with an open mind—or skip this story entirely. This is, after all, a story about discovery. All kinds.
☀️ DAY 5 – MORNING | Breakfast & Totals
The smell of toast, coffee, and something sweet lingered in the air as the trio moved slowly through the soft haze of morning. All three of them were naked, of course. They always were now. It no longer felt like a rule—just a condition of existence.
Charles sat at the table, his bare legs crossed casually, shoulders slightly hunched as he sipped his coffee. He didn’t speak at first, only glanced occasionally toward Sophie as she moved through the kitchen, her presence as fluid as the morning light.
She was humming softly—something contented, something dangerous. When she reached up to a high cupboard for the honey, her body stretched with unconscious elegance. Her hips shifted, breasts lifting, ass tightening just enough to catch the attention of both men.
Malik leaned on the counter nearby, relaxed, coffee mug in hand. He watched her too, but not like Charles. Malik didn’t hide it.
“You’re in a good mood,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
Sophie turned to him, smile blooming. “I slept well.” A beat. “Really well.”
Malik gave a quiet, knowing nod. “Glad to hear it.”
Charles chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I guess we all needed a deep sleep after yesterday.”
Malik looked over at him and nodded again—friendly, measured. “You did good, man. Seriously. That wasn’t easy. But you handled it.”
Charles shrugged, his gaze lowered for a moment. “Thanks. Yeah. Weird ... but I guess we’re all getting used to it.”
Sophie sat beside him, close—but not quite touching. Her hand rested lightly on Charles’s knee. “We’re doing really well.” Then, after a pause, she turned her gaze across the table toward Malik. “All of us.”
The eye contact held—longer than Charles liked.
The screen beside them lit up:
“Participant Earnings Update — End of Day 4”
Sophie: £5,750
Charles: £5,000
Malik: £5,000
“Keep up the excellent work.”
Charles let out a low whistle. “Not bad for four days of being naked and confused.”
Sophie grinned. “Speak for yourself. I’m not confused at all.”
That made Malik chuckle, just under his breath. “Some of us are adapting quicker than others.”
Their eyes met again. No shame now.
Charles looked between them, then offered a faint smile. “Right. Well. At least we’re all ... adapting.”
🧘♀️ LATE MORNING | Yoga Session
Sophie stretched lazily as she stood, the light catching the curve of her hips.
“I think I need to move. Clear my head a little,” she said. “Anyone want to do some yoga?”
She didn’t look directly at either of them—but her voice tilted, just enough. There was a thread of hope in it.
Malik nodded. “Sure.”
Charles hesitated, then followed. “Uh, yeah. Why not.”
She smiled, and it bloomed across her face.
“Okay. I’ll lead.”
Later, in the lounge, the mats were laid out in the soft light pouring through high windows. The space was quiet, warm, and wide open. Sophie stood in the centre, arms stretching overhead, her body long and lean, hips tilted just enough, breasts lifting as she breathed.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s move. I’ll guide.” Her gaze drifted toward both men—but lingered a moment longer on Malik.
He nodded. Charles mirrored him.
They began.
Downward Dog. Warrior I. Warrior II.
Sophie moved with fluid ease—gliding, bending, her form almost feline, all grace and rhythm.
She walked behind Charles as he strained slightly in his pose.
“You’re doing well, Chuck,” she said softly—her tone somewhere between affectionate and condescending. She didn’t touch him. Just moved on.
Malik held the same pose, his form solid. Sophie stepped behind him, placing her hands on his hips. Her fingertips warmed his skin, sliding across the edges of his glutes.
“A little wider,” she murmured. He adjusted, shifting in response.
Her palms pressed across the swell of his ass, then glided up the lean muscles of his obliques, brushing along the edges of his ribs.
“There. Perfect,” she said, her voice thick with warmth.
“You’re really hands-on today,” Malik noted, amused and low.
“I like helping,” Sophie replied, stepping around in front of him.
They both moved into crescent lunge, facing each other. Sophie leaned forward, guiding his arms into place, her breasts just inches from his chest. She transitioned them smoothly into another pose, stepping behind him again. Her palms slid down his hips, adjusting his stance with deliberate care. Her fingers lingered over the outer curves of his glutes before drifting upward once more.
“Good. Open your chest more ... right there,” she murmured. Her voice had softened, dropped a register. “You feel strong,” she added, her breath feathering the air. “Effortless.”
Malik gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, his breath deepening as his arms lifted.
Sophie moved to face him again, her hands guiding his wrists into place. She trailed her fingers up his forearms, then over the curve of his biceps. Their eyes met—only breath between them.
As she adjusted his arm behind his back, she dipped lower. Her face hovered directly in the space between his chest and thighs. Her eyes flicked down.
His cock hung thick and relaxed, lightly flushed from warmth and motion. It curved forward with weight and promise, just inches from her face.
She didn’t look away.
She didn’t rush.
She simply stared—for a breath longer than she should have. Then exhaled softly.
“Beautiful,” she whispered.
Malik’s smile curled slowly. “The pose?”
Sophie rose with unhurried grace, her breasts brushing his arm as she came upright.
“Mostly.”
Their eyes held.
“You’re a good teacher,” Malik said, his voice like warm velvet.
Sophie’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching.
“You’re ... easy to work with.”
Malik said nothing more. He didn’t need to.
Across the room, Charles shifted on his mat, stealing glances he tried to disguise. He was still trying to keep up, trying to stay centred.
But the tension between Sophie and Malik had gravity now.
They moved toward each other like it was natural.
Inevitable.
And Charles was starting to feel like a prop.
When the session ended, Sophie lay back on her mat in savasana—arms open, legs relaxed, her chest rising slow and steady. Malik lay beside her, calm. Present. Together.
Charles lay a little farther away, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
On the outside of everything.
🔥 DAY 5 – AFTERNOON TASK: HEAT MAPPING
The screen lit up, followed by the soft chime that now triggered an instinctive stillness in all three participants.
“This afternoon’s Group Task is now available: Heat Mapping.”
“Each participant will lie still while the others explore their body using only their fingertips. Participants may touch as they wish—with the exception of deliberate stimulation of the genitals.”
“You may not speak. You may not react. You may only feel.”
“Completion bonus: £500 per participant.”
The numbers flashed.
Sophie swallowed. Malik gave a single, measured nod—calm, focused. Charles shifted slightly, tension in his thighs, his jaw clenching just enough to betray him.
They knew what was coming.
None of them knew what it would cost.
🧍♀️ ROUND 1 – Sophie Lies Down
She reclined on the mat, her eyes soft, her body relaxed but humming just beneath the surface. Her arms rested at her sides, her legs parted—just slightly, naturally, intentionally.
Malik knelt to her left. Charles to her right.
The timer started.
Malik’s hand moved first. It always did.
Two fingers traced the ridge of her collarbone, slow and deliberate, before gliding downward—along the gentle slope of her breast. He didn’t grope, didn’t linger. He followed the natural curve, until the cool air coaxed her nipple into a taut, sensitive peak.
He circled it once. Slowly.
She arched—barely.
His fingers continued their descent, sliding between the valley of her breasts, along the line of her sternum, and across the plane of her stomach. He hovered near the crest of her mound, fingertips brushing the edge of trimmed hair, the suggestion of touch without transgression.
No contact with her slit.
But the heat of his fingers pulsed through her regardless—an echo of desire that settled deep inside.
Charles moved too, but his touch was cautious. He traced along her shin, the outer edge of her arm—safe zones. Distant. Apologetic.
Sophie barely noticed. Her focus was singular.
Her breath hitched as Malik’s fingers skimmed the inside of her thigh. He stopped just short of her lips. The ache to move, to open, shimmered through her—but she held still.
Then came her calves. Her feet. The soft ribs beneath her breasts.
And just when she thought it was over—
Malik reached for the inside of her elbow. His fingers glided upward, tracing the back of her arm to her wrist...
Then he leaned down.
And let his breath drift across her nipple.
Not a kiss.
Just warmth.
Just air.
She gasped—silently.
🧍♂️ ROUND 2 – Charles Lies Down
Charles lay stiffly on the mat, arms rigid at his sides, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He didn’t move—not even to breathe deeper.
Malik approached first, moving with clinical calm. His hands slid down Charles’s arms, across his shoulders, over the ribs and quads—efficient, detached.
Sophie followed a moment later, her fingers grazing his forearm, drifting over his kneecap. Light. Distant.
She didn’t touch his cock.
Not even close.
She didn’t even look at him.
He felt that absence more than he felt her hands.
And it stung.
🧍♂️ ROUND 3 – Malik Lies Down
Malik stretched out across the mat like a sculpture carved in heat and flesh. Arms behind his head, chest open, his entire body was a portrait of masculine ease. The ridges of his abs rose and fell with shallow breaths. His thighs were taut and powerful. And across one hip, resting thick and heavy, lay the coiled shaft of his cock—already beginning to swell from the air, from expectation.
Charles looked away.
Sophie did not.
Her eyes drank him in—like a starving artist studying her muse. Slowly, reverently, she knelt beside him.
Charles moved first, trailing fingers along Malik’s arm, across his chest. The gesture was respectful. Careful. Emotionless.
Sophie stayed frozen, breath caught high in her chest. Then, finally, she reached out. Her fingers touched his shin—solid and warm beneath her hand, like steel wrapped in velvet.
She let her hand drift upward, slow and worshipful. At his thigh, she pressed more firmly, nails barely grazing the muscle, feeling the tension ripple beneath her touch. His skin radiated heat.
She paused.
Then turned inward.
Toward his cock.
Her hand slid along the inside of his thigh, curving upward until the edge of her pinky brushed the thick root of him.
Malik didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.
He didn’t need to.
Her fingers widened, eyes full of awe as they traced beneath the weight of his shaft—from its thick base to the swollen head resting against his hip. It twitched beneath her touch. Her lips parted. Her breath caught.
She shivered.
It’s real ... and it’s perfect...
Her fingertips explored the shape of him—the heat, the velvet softness, the veins, the impossible girth. Even without wrapping her hand around it, she felt it: the weight, the promise, the power.
Her heart pounded.
Her nipples tingled.
Between her thighs, she was soaked.
She had touched cocks before—of course she had. But never like this.
Never this.
Her fingers swept back up the length again, slower this time. Bolder.
And Malik?
He grew.
Right there. In her hand.
Across the mat, Charles watched. His hand had stilled mid-stroke along Malik’s arm. His lips parted. His expression slackened.
He didn’t say a word.
He didn’t need to.
His eyes spoke plainly:
She’s gone.
She’s not pretending anymore.
Sophie withdrew her hand slowly. Her fingers lingered along Malik’s thigh one last time before she sat back on her heels. Her eyes remained locked on the cock she’d just explored in reverent silence.
She was trembling, though she hadn’t noticed. Her thighs had pressed together. Her breathing was shallow.
“Task Complete.”
The system’s voice cut through the air like a slap.
Malik sat up, slow and sure. His cock now stood fully hard, slick with pre-cum, unapologetic. He didn’t hide it. He didn’t speak.
Sophie stared down at the mat, her cheeks flushed, her heart pounding in her ears.
Charles didn’t move.
📣 Post-Task Announcement
The system chime sounded again—firmer this time, with an edge that snapped through the stillness.
“Task complete. Processing performance bonuses.”
A pause. Then:
“Charles: £500 awarded.”
“Malik: £500 awarded.”
“Sophie: Rule violation detected. Bonus forfeited.”
Silence.
Malik turned his head slightly—just enough to glance at her.
Charles didn’t look at anyone. But his face, pale and tight with stunned disbelief, said everything.
Sophie blinked. Her cheeks flushed deeper.
Her fingers still tingled with the memory of Malik’s cock.
🎙️ DIARY ROOM – Sophie (Day 5)
The chair was cool against her bare skin.
Sophie crossed her legs automatically, then uncrossed them—because the pressure only heightened her awareness of how wet she still was.
The chime played. The light came on.
She didn’t look up at the camera.
“Participant: Sophie. Task Reflection. Begin when ready.”
She swallowed hard. Her voice, when it came, was soft—but steady.
“I touched it.”
“I knew the rule. I remembered it. I just ... didn’t care.”
She looked down at her hands resting in her lap, fingertips flexing slightly, as if recalling the shape they’d memorised.
“I wanted to know what it felt like. Not from across the room. Not in a quick glance. But ... really feel it.”
Her breath caught.
“And it was ... oh my god, it was incredible.”
Her thighs pressed together again.
“It’s not just big. It’s not just thick. It’s ... heavy. Warm. You can feel the blood in it. Like it’s alive on its own.”
“And I just ... I let my fingers follow the shape. The ridge underneath. The way it twitched. I barely touched the tip and it ... responded.”
She closed her eyes.
“I wanted to wrap my hand around it. Really hold it. See how it felt in my palm. Grip it. Feel the weight of it slap against my wrist.”
She opened her eyes again—bright, wet.
Not from shame.
“But I didn’t. I pulled away. Just ... barely.”
“It was the hardest thing I’ve done since getting here.”
A pause. Quieter:
“Charles was watching. I knew it. I felt it.”
“But for those few seconds ... I didn’t care.”
Her lips parted again, her voice barely a whisper.
“I think ... I wanted him to see.”
“I think I wanted Malik to know what he does to me.”
🎙️ DIARY ROOM – Charles (Day 5)
The chair felt colder today. Or maybe it was just him.
He sat hunched forward, knees apart, one hand running absently over the top of his thigh—not from arousal, but nerves. Discomfort. Displacement.
The chime sounded.
“Participant: Charles. Task Reflection. Begin when ready.”
He gave a short, bitter laugh.
“It wasn’t even sex.”
A pause.
“But watching her touch him like that ... it felt more intimate than anything she’s done to me in weeks.”
His eyes blinked slowly, heavy.
“She didn’t just touch him. She ... studied him. Explored him. Like he was some goddamn artefact and she had to memorise every curve.”
“She didn’t even look at me.”
He shook his head, swallowing hard.
“I know I said I could handle this. That I wanted this. But I thought— I thought she’d hold back. That she’d play along. That she’d be mine at the end of the day.”
His voice cracked.
“But she’s slipping. Further. Every time they touch. Every time he looks at her like he knows something I never will.”
“I’m not just sharing her anymore.”
“I think I’m watching her forget that I exist.”
He breathed out, slow and shaky.
Wiped under his eye with a knuckle.
“And the worst part is ... I can’t even blame her.”
📥 SYSTEM PROMPT – Sophie
The hallway lights pulsed softly as Sophie stepped out of the Diary Room, her body still tingling, her mind hazy.
A low chime came from the nearest wall screen. She turned.
“Private Prompt for Sophie Only.”
“You are invited to choose one housemate for an exclusive night of connection. This is a gift for your honesty and engagement.”
“Choose wisely. Your selected partner will be removed from all other tasks for the remainder of the day.”
Sophie smiled slowly. Her breath caught.
There was no real hesitation.
No real choice.
“Malik.”
She pressed.
The screen blinked.
Accepted.
She turned away, heart pounding. A night alone. With Malik.
Maybe the rules would blur again.
Maybe she’d feel more than just the weight of his cock under her fingertips this time.
She was already growing wet again at the thought.
Then came the second chime.
Louder.
Sharper.
“Thank you, Sophie. Your selection has been registered.”
“To honour your chosen partner, he will be removed from the house for the remainder of the night.”
“You and Charles will now enjoy an intimate evening together, uninterrupted.”
Sophie froze.
Her smile vanished.
She had misunderstood the prompt.
The screen remained lit, impassive.
And for the first time all day—
She felt completely alone.
🌒 DAY 5 – EVENING: INTIMATE NIGHT
The dining room was dim, bathed in warm amber from recessed lighting. Two glasses of wine sat between them, condensation beading down their sides. The food was laid out with care—elegant, almost romantic.
It should have felt like a date.
Instead, it felt like a test.
Sophie sat with her legs crossed, ankles tucked beneath the chair, her bare skin glowing faintly under the light. Her posture was relaxed.
Her heart was not.
Across from her, Charles rested his elbows on the table, fingers slowly rotating the stem of his wine glass. He studied it for a moment before finally breaking the silence.
“I was ... surprised. That you picked me.”
Sophie’s stomach sank.
She offered a soft smile. Gentle.
Too gentle.
“Of course I picked you,” she said.
Her voice was light. Steady. A little too rehearsed.
Charles chuckled, the sound thin, almost brittle.
“No, I mean ... I didn’t think I was the one who made you feel the most— I don’t know. Connected.”
Sophie took a long, deliberate sip of wine.
You are.
You were.
I wanted Malik.
She set the glass down carefully, her fingers lingering at the base.
“I didn’t want things to get lost. Between us.”
That part wasn’t a lie.
Not completely.
Charles leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles.
“I’ve felt like I was slipping. Like he was ... pulling you away from me.”
She said nothing.
“I watch the way you look at him. The way you ... touch him. And I try to tell myself it’s just part of the experiment. But it’s getting harder.”
Her heartbeat quickened. Tightened.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said.
Sophie reached across the table and laid her fingers over his.
“Then don’t.”
🛏️ Later – In the Bedroom
The bedroom was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of low lighting. The sheets had been turned down with care, and the air carried a subtle scent of citrus, mingling with something more intimate and unmistakable—her own arousal, still lingering on her skin. Sophie lay on her side, facing Charles, her body relaxed but her mind restless, uncertain.
He moved closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her gently toward him. His lips found her shoulder first, then her neck, the warmth of his breath slightly unsteady. She let him continue, turning her face to meet his. The kiss was soft, tentative, tinged with sweetness—but beneath it, she felt the restraint. The mildness. The effort to feel something that refused to rise.
His hand slid over her breast, cupping it tenderly, while the other hand drifted lower, across the curve of her stomach and down between her thighs. He shifted on top of her, kissing with more urgency now, trying to lead, to stir something into life. But his body lagged behind the intention. There was no fire, no pressure, no insistence. He pressed against her, but the truth became quickly, undeniably clear.
He wasn’t hard.
She kissed him again, more slowly, trying to ease him into arousal. Her hand moved between them, fingers wrapping around his cock, gently coaxing. It felt smaller in her palm than she remembered—softer, almost weightless, like it no longer believed in itself. She stroked with patience, careful not to shame him, and he closed his eyes, silent. But nothing changed.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice tight and ashamed. “I’m trying.”
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice even and soft, though it wasn’t.
Because while she comforted him, her thoughts slipped elsewhere—uninvited, unstoppable. She imagined Malik instead, imagined the feel of him, the heat of his presence. Malik wouldn’t be apologising. He wouldn’t be trying. He’d already be gripping her hips, already hard, already pressing that thick, perfect cock against her body with absolute confidence. He’d know exactly what she needed without asking. And her body would know, instantly, how to open for him.
She closed her eyes, the ache beginning to rise in her again—not from what she was experiencing, but from what she wasn’t.
Charles sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted tonight to be good. For you.”
She nodded, offering a quiet “It’s okay,” though the hollowness in her chest deepened.
“I can still do something,” he added, determination tightening his voice. He lowered himself between her thighs, and she let him, watching the crown of his head move closer. His lips pressed gently to her inner thigh, his tongue drawing slow, careful circles. He worked harder than usual—more focused, more precise. It wasn’t bad. He was trying so much harder than before.
But it still felt distant. Like touch filtered through a layer of glass. There was no real depth, no primal urgency. She wanted to be grateful, to appreciate the effort. But her body had already remembered too much. Malik’s breath. Malik’s cock twitching beneath her hand. The way her whole body seemed to ignite whenever he was near.
Now, she was lying in bed beside a man who loved her. Who wanted to please her. Who was truly, sincerely trying. And all she could feel was the growing distance between what she had and what she wanted.
She came. Barely.
☀️ DAY 6 – SOPHIE’S MORNING
Sophie woke to the dull, aching throb of longing between her legs. Her thighs were sticky. Her skin was warm beneath the sheets. Her nipples brushed against the fabric, tight and flushed, the lingering pulse of desire still radiating through her body.
She was coming down from the dream.
In it, Malik had returned—not as he was before, but changed. Certain. He stepped into the bedroom already hard, already knowing exactly what she needed. She was waiting, naked, perched on the edge of the bed with her legs open. When he moved between them, she could feel the shadow of his cock fall across her thighs before he even touched her.
He knelt between her legs, his voice low and sure.
“You’re ready now.”
Then he took her—slow at first, thick and deliberate, stretching her open with such deep, relentless waves that she gasped into the sheets. He filled her in a way that both scared and thrilled her. His hands pinned her wrists. His breath was hot at her ear.
“Is this what you’ve been dreaming of?” he whispered.
And she had moaned his name—over and over—until she came with her fingers clawing into the mattress, her body jerking against his, begging for more even as she shattered.
Sophie blinked her eyes open.
Charles lay curled beside her, lips parted slightly, one arm folded across his chest like a boy hiding from a nightmare. Her clit still pulsed faintly. Her thighs were slick. Her mouth dry.
She remembered the night before—how she’d tried to help him, how soft he’d stayed in her hand, how small he had felt. Even when he’d gone down on her, it had felt ... nice. That was the word. Not hungry, not devouring, not worshipful.
Just nice.
And then, worse—when she came, it had felt like a favour. A way to end the moment, to give him something, to make him feel whole again.
But now, in the cool quiet of morning, her body told the truth.
Malik was still inside her.
Not physically—but in her muscles, in her breath, in the burn behind her eyelids. She turned toward the empty bed across the room. Malik’s bed. The sheets were untouched. The space felt enormous.
She bit her lip.
Come back, she thought.
I need you again. I need more.
The system chimed overhead.
“All participants, please report to the Diary Room.”
Sophie sighed. She wiped the inside of her thigh with the edge of the sheet and sat up slowly. The sensation between her legs wasn’t satisfaction. It wasn’t even real release. It was a soft, echoing pulse—more a mini-gasm than an orgasm. A ripple of relief, not fulfilment.
Charles stirred beside her and climbed up onto the mattress, eyes wide with hope.
“Better?” he asked.
She leaned in, kissed his cheek.
“Yes,” she said.
She smiled.
She lied.
He curled up behind her, one arm wrapping around her waist.
Sophie lay still, staring into the dark, her skin still tingling, her body still warm.
But not from him.
🎙️ DAY 6 – MORNING | DIARY ROOM – Replacement Offer
The lights in the Diary Room were dim, muted. The kind of lighting meant to make people speak softly, reveal things they hadn’t meant to say. Sophie sat in the centre, Charles on her right. The chair to her left remained empty—a quiet, glaring reminder that Malik was still gone.
The screen flickered to life in front of them.
“Participant Trust Milestone: Decision Opportunity.”
“You may now choose to replace Malik with one of the two original alternate candidates.”
“Decision must be unanimous. If even one participant votes against, Malik will remain.”
“You may discuss freely. Final choice will be locked when prompted.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Charles rubbed his palms over his thighs, as though trying to warm his thoughts into clarity. Then he cleared his throat, voice tentative.
“I mean ... it’s not that I want him gone. I just—if this has gotten weird. Or ... too much.”
Sophie remained quiet.
“I thought maybe, you know, starting over could be good. Cleaner. Like—we’ve made it a third of the way, and it’s getting heavier. More ... involved.”
He looked at her, waiting. Hoping she’d meet him halfway. But Sophie was still thinking about the dream. About Malik’s eyes, the weight of his cock pressing into her, the way her body had opened for him with effortless, instinctive hunger. Even now, her muscles remembered him.
She blinked, brought herself back into the room, then shook her head gently.
“Starting over wouldn’t make it cleaner, Charles. It would make it harder,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “You want to go through this with someone new? Someone who hasn’t earned any trust, who hasn’t shown us any respect?”