When it was over, they sat on the floor, breathless, backs against the table. Marianne pulled her skirt down, fingers trembling, shame settling heavy in her chest. Daniel reached for her hand. She let him hold it, though she didn’t look at him.
“You don’t regret it, do you?” he asked quietly.
Her laugh came low, bitter, but touched with something else. “Regret? I’ll regret it every damn day. But tonight? No.”
She stood, smoothing her skirt, gathering the books scattered around them. He watched her, eyes still dark with desire, but softer now.
As she left the library, locking the door behind them, the night air cooled her flushed skin. Marianne knew she had crossed a line she couldn’t uncross. But she also knew she wouldn’t forget the way it felt—the danger, the fire, the forbidden taste of youth against her lips.
And deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
