Eleanor:
The villa’s bedroom had never felt smaller, yet the space between us crackled with electricity. Every glance, every shiver, every brush of skin against skin was a spark waiting to ignite. I wanted to be furious, to stomp and declare war, but my body—betraying me, betraying every carefully constructed wall—wanted exactly the opposite.
He pressed me against the wall, chest to chest, heat rolling off him like a storm. His hands weren’t tentative; they were measured, deliberate. A touch here, a brush there, all calculated to test me, probe me, see where my limits lay. I wanted to push him away, I needed to push him away—but the truth was, each time he pressed closer, I leaned in slightly, almost without realizing it.
“Ellie…” His voice was low, coaxing, dangerous. Just the sound of
