9: Dasha.

I’m in trouble. My blood quakes with that reality.

With excitement.

I have no idea how long Clement has been standing at the end of the hallway, listening to me talk to Nicholas. But there’s part of me that hopes he heard all of it. Heard the truth about each man making me feel different, in wonderful ways. I’ve had just over a week to sort through my very different reactions to them—and right now, with Clement slowly approaching us, his boots falling heavily on the floorboards, my reactions have never made more sense.

Clement’s face is shadowed, but his muscles are tensed. I dropped my shirt the moment he arrived, but my panties remain bunched around the tops of my thighs. Nicholas is still standing too close, but he’s posturing now, his jaw tight and lifted as he turns to face Clement.

“Relax,” Nicholas snaps. “We didn’t break any rules.”

“No,” Clement agrees, dim light revealing the harsh planes of his face. “But that would have changed soon enough.” His attention lands on me hard.