Chapter 1
The sheets smelled like cologne and bleach—cheap hotel-clean, just sterile enough to pretend this wasn’t what it was.
He grunted above her, hips moving with the rhythm of a man who thought he was good at this. She made the sounds he expected: soft gasps, breathy moans, little whimpers timed like a metronome to his thrusts. He smiled when she arched her back just so, mistaking her muscle memory for pleasure.
Her nails scratched down his back because she knew they liked that. Her eyes fluttered shut—not because she was lost in it, but because it was easier not to look at the ceiling and feel nothing.
Almost there, he panted.
She moaned louder, let her body tremble beneath him, and gave him what he came for.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, biting her lip as if to hold back more. She knew how to sell it. He groaned in satisfaction and collapsed beside her, smug and spent.
He didn’t ask if she came. He didn’t need to.
She'd already told him with her body, her voice, the perfect little lie.
She stared at the ceiling, her legs still spread, her chest rising and falling like she’d just had the best sex of her life.
But inside, she felt nothing. Again.
