The proposal hung in the air like a match held over dry tinder. Freya and Draven spent the following week wrapped in a cocoon of desperate intimacy and tentative planning. The penthouse became their sanctuary and their prison. They barely left. Days melted into nights filled with long conversations, heated arguments about the future, and s*x that ranged from tender and healing to raw and punishing.
Draven would wake her in the middle of the night with his mouth between her thighs, licking her slowly until she came awake moaning his name. He’d f**k her lazily from behind while they watched the sunrise over the city, his hand rubbing her c**t in perfect rhythm with his deep thrusts. In the afternoons, Freya would drop to her knees while he was on conference calls, sucking him off under the
