Parker let her go, gently peeling her from his chest, but she was already lost in the heat that had flooded her bloodstream. She stared at the ground for half a second longer than she meant to, trying to remember how to exist.
Her hand—the one that had been pressed to his chest—still hovered midair like it didn't want to forget the shape of him. Her fingers curled slightly, trembling. She stared at them like they were traitors. Her palm was warm, no—burning.
The blush crawled from her wrist up to her collarbone and then all the way to her face like someone had poured scarlet straight into her bloodstream.
Then her eyes snapped up.
Tessa. Naomi. Elena.
All three standing there. Watching. Judging? Smirking?
She couldn't tell. She didn't want to tell.
Tessa's arms were crossed, her brow cocked, lips twisted in that oh really? kind of smile. "Having fun with my man, Atalanta?" she asked, voice carrying too much knowledge.
