Date = 1 July
Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)
POV - Aria
“I need you naked,” Enrique says, so straightforwardly it feels like an order and a confession in one breath.
We stumble into the bedroom, half out of breath, my shirt on the floor, before the lightning cracks again. Thunder rolls in after, deep and hungry.
It feels like slipping into another dimension — one where breath and skin and longing blur into something weightless. The air smells like rain and electricity, like something about to break. The storm outside is a distant hum, barely audible under the pulse of moans and gasps that fills the room like static.
Time doesn’t stop, but it bends. Warps.
It stretches thin until it feels like we’re floating somewhere between lightning strikes, caught in the space before the
