The heavy restroom door swung open, and the pounding bass of the club hit them at once. Alex stepped out first, fixing his cuffs, with Naomi trailing half a pace behind as they cut straight back into the heat and noise of the crowded lounge.
They had pieced themselves together as best they could in the dim mirror, but some things refused to be smoothed away.
Naomi's gown was smoothed down, but the fine fabric around her hips and lower waist clung with telltale wrinkles, faintly damp where his hands had pinned her against the cold partition.
She kept her chin high and her jaw rigid, yet every step betrayed her. Her thighs carried a stiff, guarded hitch... the subtle, unsteady gait of a woman whose legs were still trembling, whose core was swollen, aching, and starved of the release she had begged for.
Any sharp eye in the room would know within half a second what had just transpired against the bathroom tiles.
Neither of them cared.
