ONLY IN THE DARK

HOT BREATH

Aurora’s pulse tripped over itself.

She could feel him behind her—too close, his presence brushing against her skin like a shadow she couldn’t step out of.

She turned just enough to catch his eyes in the dim light. They were sharp, unreadable, and entirely too aware of the effect he was having on her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, though her voice betrayed her with its softness.

His mouth curved. “Neither should you.”

He stepped forward, closing the thin strip of space between them until her back met the cold wall. The contrast of ice at her spine and heat at her front made her breath catch.

Saint braced one hand beside her head, leaning in until his lips hovered just above hers—close enough for her to taste the faint trace of smoke on his breath.

Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it.

“Tell me to walk away,” he said, his tone daring her.

Aurora didn’t.

The air between them thinned, charged, until she was dizzy from it. His fingers brushed her jaw, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the line of her face.

She swore the world tilted when his mouth finally touched hers—light at first, testing, then deeper, as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long.

It was heat and danger and the sweet taste of regret she knew she’d crave again.

And just when the kiss threatened to undo her completely, he broke away, his gaze dark with something she couldn’t name.

“Next time,” Saint murmured, voice like a promise and a threat in one, “we won’t stop.”

Then he was gone, leaving her pressed against the wall, breathless, and aching for the next time.