Warmth.
That was the first thing Nayla felt when she opened her eyes.
Damian’s embrace still wrapped around her like a blanket. Too snug. Too comfortable.
His bare chest had been her pillow through the night. His strong arm was still curled around her waist, as if her body was something precious, not just an outlet for his desire. As if she was chosen, possessed, and loved.
There was nothing wrong with that embrace. Their bodies entwined, their breaths synchronized, their skin melting into one another.
From the outside, they looked like two souls who never wanted to part. As if they were lost in something consuming. But if one paid close enough attention, they would notice a single, glaring contrast — Nayla wasn’t holding him back.
Her body was passive and cold, like the undercurrent
