For a long moment there was only sound — the uneven rhythm of her breathing, the slow thud of his heart against her back, the hush of the sea beyond the window. From somewhere below drifted the mellow cry of a saxophone, the slow pulse of a drum keeping lazy time beneath it, the faint hum of conversation from the dinner terrace.
The sounds felt distant, belonging to another world entirely.
Here, wrapped in the circle of his arms, the lamplight pooling around them, they were cocooned in their own quiet universe.
Safe, suspended, untouched.
When she finally lifted her head, she caught their reflection again: two figures wrapped in shadow and lamplight.
His unwavering gaze held hers in the mirror and something inside her shifted. It wasn’t about desire anymore; it was about belonging.
To him.
The realization swept through her, dissolving the last lingering shadow of her feelings. “You’re my everything,” she whispered
His gaze darkened, heat sparking low in his eyes — something raw, almost feral. “Damn straight I am,” he growled.
*
His words were roughened by want — and something deeper he couldn’t quite name. Possessiveness, maybe.
No,craving.
He needed her like a parched man craves water, and unlike that poor bastard, he wasn’t stranded in any desert.
No, sirree.
Suzette was right here, warm and soft and very much in his arms.
And his dick was crying out for relief.
He focused on their reflection — a beautiful woman, bare but for the scrap of silk clinging low on her hips.
His.
For now,for always, if he had any say in it.
“There’s a bit of inequality going on here,” she said, turning, her voice soft but teasing.
He arched a brow. “How so?”
“Well,” she said, lips curving. “I’m naked. You’re not. I’ve come. You haven’t.” Her fingers touched the placket of his shirt.
He gave a short laugh. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
“Doesn’t seem fair,” she teased.
“No, ma’am,” he murmured, his voice dropping low. “And I’m all about keeping things fair.”
“Maybe I can be of assistance?” she offered, lips pulling at the corners.
He grinned. “By all means. Have at it.”
Her fingers worked slowly, deliberately, each button slipping free under her touch. The air between them thickened, heavy with heat and anticipation. He watched her through half-lidded eyes, feeling every brush of her knuckles as she eased the fabric apart.
When she reached the last button, she smoothed her palms over his chest, skimming the hard lines of muscle before pushing the shirt from his shoulders.
He lifted a hand, trailing it along her jaw. “Fair enough yet?” he asked, voice a low rumble that sat somewhere between laughter and longing.
