CHAPTER 77

I sat at the edge of my bed, a towel wrapped tightly around my shoulders, the ends clenched in my fists. My hair was still damp, dripping onto the fabric of the robe I had thrown on. I hadn’t even bothered to dry it properly. My fingers trembled slightly, and no matter how many deep breaths I took, the blush on my cheeks refused to fade. I couldn’t stop replaying it—his lips on mine, the warmth of his body so close to mine, the way our kiss lingered like it had been waiting to happen all along.

I buried my face in my hands, groaning into my palms.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered.

What had I done?

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Nothing about this situation was supposed to happen. I was supposed to keep my head down, play the role they forced me into, and wait for an opportunity to get out. Not—God, not melt into a kiss like some lovesick idiot.