Agatha
We stumbled into my room, hands clawing, mouths devouring, as if the air itself might vanish if we parted. Josiah’s lips were fire against mine, his tongue insistent, claiming, branding. My nails raked down his back as I tugged him closer, needing him inside me, needing to feel his strength pounding into me so I could remind myself of what I already knew.
He was mine.
The trail of our discarded clothes littered the floor, a testament to our hunger. His shirt here, my skirt there, each article proof that nothing in this world could keep him from me. He pushed me down onto the bed, his chest heaving, his gaze dark with hunger as he looked at me.
I let him stare. Let him drink me in like the finest wine he's ever tasted, because I knew the truth: no other woman would ever taste the
