The room was still hot with the scent of us. Sweat, tangled sheets, the echo of curses still clinging to the walls. My chest rose and fell against his, and for a few seconds I thought maybe that was it. That the fire had burned through us, and now it was just the quiet, steady hum of afterglow.
But Elijah wasn’t done.
He lay at his side, watching me like a wolf with his prey, lips curved in that slow grin that made me want to slap him and kiss him all at once. His fingers traced idle shapes across my stomach, dipping lower, then higher, never quite landing where I wanted them.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered, pretending to be annoyed.
“Like what?” His voice was still wrecked from before, low and raw.
“Like you’re planning something.”
He leaned down, kissed the corner of my
