AVELA’S POV
I didn’t wait for him to ask again. My “yes” still hung between us, hot and heavy, when Lucas’s mouth claimed mine once more. The kiss swallowed every doubt, every second-guessing voice that tried to creep back in. All I tasted was him—mint and heat and something darker, something that made my blood roar.
His arms flexed under my thighs, still holding me against the wall. Then he moved.
One step. Two. My back left the cool plaster, and suddenly I was weightless, wrapped tight around his waist, his shoulder nudging the bedroom door open with a soft thud. The hallway light sliced across the floor behind us, but the room itself was dim, silvered only by the moon spilling through half-open blinds.
Our lips never broke.
Not once.
I felt fire everywhere—on my mouth,
