Ana's POV
We had become a habit.
I had stopped calling it anything else. Stolen nights at the penthouse, my bag living half-packed by my door, the drive across the city I no longer pretended was about work.
I had stopped fighting it somewhere in the last two weeks, and the strange thing was how very good it felt the moment I let go. How right.
This night started like all the others.
Slow. Consuming. He met me at the door and took my coat and kissed me before I had my shoes off, unhurried, the way he did everything here.
His hands found me in the dark like they always did, sure, patient, learning me over again like he hadn't already mapped every inch.
"You are quiet tonight," he murmured against my throat.
"I'm here," I breathed. "That's all that matters."
"It is." His mouth mo
