The dim glow of the lamp painted Rosa’s skin in warm gold, the faintest tremors still running through her as Nicklaus held her against him.
His fingers, slick with the proof of her pleasure, traced the jagged lines of scars along her back, each ridge a story he didn’t know, each dip a wound he suddenly ached to soothe.
The air between them was thick, charged with something more than just the lingering scent of s*x.
It was the weight of a confession hanging unspoken, the tension of a man who had spent his life following orders now staring at the one he couldn’t bring himself to obey.
Rosa exhaled slowly, her breath warm against the crook of his neck where her lips brushed lazily. She could feel the way his body hummed beneath hers- tense, coiled, like a predator denying itself the kill
