The room’s feverish heat ebbed, leaving a chill that seeped into my bones as the tide of passion receded. Shadows clung to the walls, the lamplight’s glow a fragile ward against the dark. My breath steadied, strength trickling back into my limbs, and I noticed Nate’s quiet gesture—the blanket tucked between us, a silent barrier to temper the fire still smoldering in his touch.
I rose, the air cool against my flushed skin, and gathered my scattered clothes. Each button fastened was a step back to control, a shield against the vulnerability of what we’d shared. Turning to Nate, I kept my voice soft but deliberate, ready to navigate the conversation we needed.
His brow furrowed, a storm brewing in his eyes. “Running again after having me?” The words carried a playful sting, but beneath them
