~ Niamh ~
Even after my morning shower and a quiet breakfast, I could still feel Massimo's touch lingering all over my skin.
It was incredibly distracting, clinging to me like a heavy, unspoken melody even as I sat in the brightly lit study room trying to homeschool Matteo.
I found myself staring down at the open textbooks, struggling to separate the simple, innocent English words meant for a five-year-old's mind from the dirty, dark whispers Massimo had poured into my ear all through the night.
He had spent hours studying and worshipping every inch of my body on those rumpled sheets, discovering sensitive places I never even knew could make me see stars, and ruthlessly reminding me of the exact reason why, beyond all the hatred, I had never truly forgotten the feel of him.
