The expressions destroyed me most.
Hiro's face was turned slightly, his profile visible—eyes half-closed, lips parted, jaw slack with pleasure. He looked undone. Wrecked. Like whatever was happening to his body had short-circuited every defense he'd ever built.
The woman beneath him wore bliss like a mask—brows drawn together, mouth open, caught in that suspended moment right before release.
And the man behind him—what little I could see of his face—looked possessive. Hungry. Like he desperately hoped he could claim Hiro, but knew he never would.
It was gorgeous.
Too gorgeous.
Too intimate.
Mami had captured them and clearly stole a moment she was never meant to see, preserving it in charcoal and shadow so she could return to it again and again.
I couldn't breathe.
Hiro, beside me, didn't tense.
Didn't blush.
Didn't look away for even a second.
His voice was casual. "She drew this after an Opera in Italy. I recognize the woman and man. This was a year ago."
My head snapped toward him. "This actually happened?"
He nodded, completely unbothered. "Yeah. It’s a pleasure ladder. I like them."
"A what?"
“Pleasure ladder.” His voice dropped to a wicked tone that slid right under my skin. "Three people. One rhythm. One bed. Pleasure moving through all at once until everyone reaches their destination."
Heat rushed up my neck.
He saw it immediately—and smirked. “You're blushing."
"I'm not—"
"You are." He looked back down at the page. “Do you understand now what a pleasure ladder is, or do I have to show you?”
“I’ve got it.” I nervously closed the book.
He chuckled.
I swallowed. “So. . .she is good at spying on people and capturing moments.”
“From that angle, I think she might have been in my closet.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My bedroom door was near the bed.”
“How do you remember that?”
"I remember every detail about all my encounters. It’s a part of the experience, the details. . .the setting. . .the moment. . .the emotion."
His casualness made my insides churn. I bit my lower lip, feeling a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment. My cheeks were aflame, and I was aware that my pulse had quickened. The intimacy of the situation was making me uncomfortable in the most peculiar way.
