Salome woke to darkness and the steady rhythm of Malachi's breathing beside her.
The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the city beyond the windows. She didn't know what time it was—late, judging by the depth of the silence—but her body was wide awake.
And aware.
She shifted slightly, feeling the pleasant ache between her thighs, the tenderness in her muscles. Evidence of what they'd done. What he'd given her.
But instead of exhaustion, she felt something else entirely.
Want.
She turned her head to look at him. He was on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the other resting across his stomach. The sheets had slipped down to his waist, exposing the hard planes of his chest, the tattoos that marked his skin like a map of violence and power.
He looked peaceful in sleep. Alm
