Their breathing filled the quiet room—ragged, uneven, still echoing with the rhythm they’d just shared. The sheets clung to their skin, damp and tangled. Lila lay sprawled across Desmond’s chest, her hair sticking to his shoulder, both of them slick with sweat. The air smelled faintly of musk and candle smoke.
She tilted her head up, lips brushing his jaw. “You’re… the best,” she whispered, her voice low and breathy. “You’re so damn good. I can’t believe this is what I’ve been missing… all these years I kept saying no.”
Desmond smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth lifting as he tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Guess you made up for it tonight,” he murmured.
She laughed softly—short, warm—but her eyes lingered on his face. For a moment, it was almost tender. Then he
