After Nathan had spilled his seed across Freja's flushed face, the heavy silence that followed was broken not by words but by the stunned, almost strangled gasp that escaped Elin. She had walked in at the wrong moment—or perhaps the worst possible moment—and the sight before her struck her speechless.
Her wide eyes fixed on Freja, who was still kneeling on the floor, her cheeks glowing crimson beneath the streaks of white that clung to her skin and dripped into her hair. It was obscene, undeniable, and shocking in a way Elin's mind could barely process. Never in all her life would she have imagined seeing Freja—so composed, so proud, so untouchable—reduced to this position, trembling on her knees with the unmistakable evidence of Nathan's climax smeared across her face.
Her lips parted, but no words came. There simply weren't any.
