Morning came far too quickly.
Rain woke slowly.
For a few seconds, he didn't remember where he was.
Then he felt the soreness in his muscles.
The unfamiliar weight of the sheets.
The faint scent of Delilah's perfume still lingering around him.
His eyes opened.
Silence.
He stared at the ceiling.
Then memory returned.
His face immediately burned.
"Oh God."
He sat up too quickly and froze.
Something caught his eye in the mirror across the room.
He stared.
Then stared harder.
His neck.
His collarbone.
His shoulders.
Marks.
Far too many marks.
His eyes widened.
"No."
He grabbed the nearest shirt and hurriedly pulled it over himself, only to discover that the collar did almost nothing to hide them.
He looked mortified.
Absolutely mortified.
Delilah, meanwhile, was sitting by the window.
Already dressed.
Already composed.
Already drinking her coffee as though she hadn't spent the previous night completely destroying his ability to think straight.
She watched him struggle with his shirt.
A smile slowly appeared.
"Good morning, Butterfly."
Rain froze.
There it was.
That name.
His knees almost betrayed him.
He refused to turn around.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Call me that."
"Why?"
Because you know exactly what it does to me.
He didn't say it.
Instead, he tugged his collar higher.
"Everyone is going to see these."
Delilah took another sip.
"That was rather the point."
His head snapped toward her.
"You did that on purpose?"
She looked at him with innocent amusement.
"Of course."
"Delilah!"
Her laughter filled the room.
Rain looked away, embarrassed beyond words.
But beneath the embarrassment was something far more disturbing.
He wasn't angry.
He should have been.
He should have felt guilty.
Flair.
The woman he'd convinced himself he loved.
The woman he had planned to give himself permission to be with.
Yet standing there, remembering Delilah's presence, her voice, her gaze...
He felt no regret.
None.
That realization struck harder than anything else.
His smile disappeared.
What was wrong with him?
He had been hurt by Delilah.
He had cried because of her.
He had told himself he wanted someone else.
So why—
Why did some secret part of him feel like last night was exactly where he belonged?
His hand slowly touched the edge of his collar.
He immediately dropped it.
No.
He couldn't think about it.
He couldn't look at her.
Because he knew himself.
If Delilah called him Butterfly again in that voice...
He would fold.
Instantly.
And that terrified him.
Across the room, Delilah watched every change in his expression.
She understood.
She always did.
Her husband was trying desperately to convince himself that he had escaped her influence.
But he hadn't.
Not even close.
She rose from her chair.
Rain heard her footsteps approaching.
His shoulders stiffened.
"Don't come closer."
She stopped.
A small smile appeared.
"Why?"
He finally looked at her.
Their eyes met.
His gorgeous green eyes were filled with conflict.
"I don't trust myself around you."
For once, Delilah said nothing.
Because that was the most honest thing he'd said all night.
Rain swallowed.
"I don't know what happened to me."
Her gaze softened for the briefest moment.
Then that familiar mischief returned.
"Perhaps, Butterfly..."
She paused deliberately.
"...you've finally discovered that you were never as innocent as you thought."
Rain's heart stumbled.
And the most frightening part?
He didn't know whether he wanted to prove her wrong...
or prove her right.