Vivian couldn't move a single muscle, even as she lay sprawled on the dirt-caked floor of the greenhouse. The sticky scent of what they had just done clung to her skin, thick in the air, wrapping around her like a suffocating fog. Her breath hitched in her throat as she tried to center herself, every attempt to suppress the fury threatening to explode within her chest failing miserably.
It hadn't lasted long—thankfully—and perhaps, if luck favored her for once, no one had seen. No one had heard. No one knew.
The sheer horror of having slept with a human—a human—turned her stomach. She had to clench her jaw to keep from vomiting. The shame clawed up her throat like bile as she waited for the firestorm of sensations still wracking her body to fade.
So deep was she in her internal turmoil that she didn't notice the way Clay, who remained kneeling respectfully beside her, subtly changed.
