(Liam Romano's point of view)
The moon bathes her back, turning her skin into liquid silk beneath my hands. Hailey arches under me; a long, soft sigh slips from her as my fingers trace the line of her spine. Every breath, every tremor that runs through her is a petition I answer with my hands and my mouth. The bed murmurs beneath us, our small movements keeping time with the night.
After our first encounter the need didn't fade — it deepened, became deliberate. Now, lying face to face, the exploration is slower, more considered. My lips find her collarbone; I taste the salt of her skin, the faint sweetness of sweat, the ghost of jasmine from her shampoo braided with something wholly hers. It smells like absolution. It smells like my redemption.
“Liam,” she murmurs, and my name on her li
