Nicholas’s POV
I sat at my desk in my office, head buried in my hands, elbows digging into the wood like it could anchor me to something solid. The room smelled of leather, ink, and the faint trace of last night’s storm that had rolled through after I’d slipped back inside. But none of that mattered. All I could smell was her. Vanilla. Heat. Wet need. It clung to the inside of my nose like smoke I couldn’t shake.
Last night had wrecked me.
I’d crouched in those damn rose bushes for almost an hour, heart hammering so loud I was sure she’d hear it through the stone walls. I just wanted to see her silhouette, maybe catch the way she moved when she thought no one was watching. That was supposed to be enough. It had always been enough—painful, but enough.
Then the sounds started.
Soft at f
