Page 35 of Fierce Monarch

“Mari—”

“I’m not going for a joyride. I’m going to the Celestine. No stops, no detours, no leaving the city.” He still didn’t want to give them up, and I sighed. “Please, Dominic. I just…can’t.”

Space. I needed space. It was all I’d needed since Nate’s betrayal. The boys looked at each other again, and I decided they could keep their secret looks if they would just let me leave.

I had to get out of here before I burned the whole place down around us.

Snatching the keys from his pocket, which was the closest we’d been in days, I headed for the door. “Lock it down. We’re done here.”

For now. For a while. Forever.

Didn’t matter to me. I was moving on, even if it killed me. Because if I didn’t, it would kill us all.

I’d just turned onto the street outside when my phone rang.

Dr. Grant.

Fuck, please let this be good news.

“What’s up, Doc?”

“Your results are back. You want them now?”

“Please.”

I took a turn too fast as I waited for her to pull them up and double-check, my heart pounding. “Everything was negative. No STIs, no pregnancy. We even tested your previous implant, and it was still functioning.”

Which didn’t mean Nate hadn’t messed with it, just that he hadn’t succeeded.

She was still talking about something, but I cut her off with a muttered, “Thanks” before hanging up.

I liked Dr. Grant, which meant she didn’t need to deal with my downward spiral. I’d send her an apology gift later, and hopefully, all would be forgiven.

It took three blocks for her words to sink in. Relief choked me, as well as the realization that I still didn’t feel clean. Potential STIs weren’t the problem either; it was Nate. Moments that had felt so good before were sullied now. None of it felt real. I needed something to make it sink in.

By the time I got to our suite, I still didn’t know what that could be, so I stalked into my bathroom, turned the shower to scalding, and stripped. With any luck, the water would burn away the last traces of Nate, and I could move on. Start over with a clean slate.

The water burned, but it also made me feel awake again. Alive. I slicked body gel over my skin, marveling at how every part of me heated at the touch.

For the first time since Nate left, I wanted.

Sliding a hand down my stomach and between my thighs felt like a revelation because, god yes.

This was what I needed. To reclaim myself, to settle in my own skin like he never existed.

I slid my fingers around my clit, gasping at how good it felt. The showerhead felt even better. If I was starting over, I was doing it with the most powerful orgasm I could.

Lifting a leg on the low ledge of the tile, I let myself feel again.

The warmth creeping in, the tension in my muscles as my body climbed higher, desperately latching on to any ounce of pleasure it could. My lips parted as soft gaps of yes, right there, and fuck slipped between them.

It was incredible. It was everything.

Except I couldn’t come.

Every time I got close, I remembered Nate’s voice, and my orgasm disappeared like water down the drain.

The longer it took, the more irritated I got, until I ripped myself from the shower with barely controlled agitation.

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