Sera Winters
Privacy is a luxury. Intimacy is a weapon. And sometimes you can't tell the difference until it's too late.
The door closed.
We stood there. Me with my back against it. Him three feet away. Not moving.
The silence was deafening. My pulse hammered so loud I thought he could hear it. Probably could—he heard everything else.
His eyes traveled over me. Slow. Hungry. Starting at my face and moving down. Taking his time. Like he was deciding where to start. What to take first.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The air between us felt charged. Electric. One spark away from igniting.
The marks on my arm started burning. Glowing faint gold in the dim light. Responding to his proximity. To the hunger rolling off hi
