Layla
I watch Dalton disappear around the side of the house. My heart is still pounding in my chest as I rinse off my legs with the hose and stand in the sun to dry off for a moment. My wrist throbs where I sliced it open on the rose bush. That, or from the feeling of Dalton’s tongue gliding over my skin, which had felt… electrifying.
I blush, then blow out my breath, wiping my wet, bare feet on the grass. I pick up my sandals and the mug I’d tossed in the yard before my ill-fated journey through the marsh and walk into the quiet house. I’m not sure where Dalton went, but after dumping my muddy sandals in the utility sink in the laundry room and walking up to my room, I gather he’s not in the house.
I take a cold shower, scrubbing what feels like years’ worth of grime from my skin. I
