Cordelia lay beneath him, chest rising and falling too fast, her skin slick with sweat and her body still trembling from the storm they had just unleashed on each other. The room felt heavy with it—heat, the sharp tang of desperation, the lingering echo of their cries pressed into the cushions.
Ash didn’t move. His weight stayed pressed against her, his breath ragged against the crook of her neck. His arms caged her in, crushing, like if he loosened even a fraction, she’d slip away and disappear into the night.
Cordelia tilted her head slightly, catching a glimpse of him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched tight, his whole body rigid as though he was holding something back—words, fear, maybe even grief.
Her throat tightened. She lifted a trembling hand and brushed her fingers
