Finally, Han had left me alone.
By the time I got out of the shower, he was nowhere to be found. My trousers and the thing I'd been looking for earlier were neatly placed on the bed. What the hell had he done? Did he intentionally hide it the first time? God, that devil. I hated him. I despised him.
I yanked on my boxers and pants, but as I was pulling them up, my mind flashed back to how he had touched me—how he stretched out on top of me, adjusting my arms, his fingers brushing too easily against my waist. I threw my head back in frustration, but when I glanced down, I froze.
I was hard.
"What the fuck?" I muttered, shaking my head violently. No. No, no, no. I wasn't attracted to that. I hadn't had sex in a few days, that's all. My body was reacting to any kind of touch. That's all it was. Just because he—
I remembered the way his fingers had teased across my chest, how he fixed my stance at the gym mirror, how his stupid breath had ghosted over my neck—
