Nine fifty-nine.
Movement catches my eye. A silhouette slips through the solarium doors—Aurora. One minute early.
Something primal stirs in my chest. She came. Despite her protests, her guilt, her sister—she’s here. The knowledge settles into my bones with a deep, visceral satisfaction. I remain motionless in the shadows, watching her.
She steps hesitantly onto the stone path, moonlight catching in her dark hair. Her eyes dart around the garden, searching. Nervous. She’s wearing a simple black sweater and jeans—attempting to blend into the night. How adorable.
Aurora takes another step forward, arms wrapped protectively around herself. She hasn’t spotted me yet. The power of observation without being observed sends a rush of pleasure through my veins. This is the moment before the strike, the perfect stillness before conquest.
“Hunter?” she whispers, voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of leaves.
I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I savor the way her eyes dart around nervously, searching for me. She takes another step forward, and I can see her pulse fluttering at her throat like a trapped bird.
“I know you’re here,” she says, stronger this time. “Let’s just get this over with.”
She’s still fighting, still pretending she has a choice in this. That she doesn’t want it as much as I do.
Her resistance is the most exquisite part. Any woman would come running at my command, except Aurora. She fights her desire even as she submits to it. She hates herself for wanting me, yet here she stands, one minute early.
I step out from the shadows, my movement deliberate and silent. When she finally sees me, her sharp intake of breath is audible. Her pupils dilate instantly.
“You came,” I say, voice low.
Aurora’s chin lifts slightly. “You didn’t give me much choice.”
I move toward her, close enough to catch her scent—something floral. “We both know that’s not entirely true.”
Her pulse quickens visibly at her throat as I step closer. Each heartbeat betraying what her words attempt to deny.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Aurora whispers, but she doesn’t back away.
“Yet here you are.” I reach out, trailing a finger along her jawline. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. “One minute early, in fact.”
“To tell you this has to stop.” Her voice wavers unconvincingly.
I smile, circling behind her. She remains frozen as I lean in, my lips grazing her ear. “Your mouth says one thing, but your body...” I place my hands on her hips, pulling her back against me. “Your body tells a different story.”
“Hunter...” Her protest dissolves into a soft gasp as I slide one hand up her ribcage, stopping just beneath her breast.
“Tell me to stop,” I challenge, my thumb tracing slow circles on her side. “Say the words like you mean them.”
She trembles against me but remains silent. I turn her to face me, backing her against the ancient oak tree. Moonlight cuts across her features, illuminating the war playing out in her eyes—desire fighting desperately against loyalty.
“This is wrong,” she manages, even as her hands reach for my shoulders.
“Then why does it feel inevitable?” I press my body against hers, pinning her to the tree. When my thigh slides between her legs, her sharp intake of breath is victory enough.
I capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her resistance. For three heartbeats, she remains rigid before surrendering with a whimper that vibrates through my chest. Her fingers threadthrough my hair, pulling me closer as her hips rock instinctively against my thigh.
The kiss deepens, turns savage. I taste her desperation, her guilt, her need—all of it fueling my own. My hand finds her breast, thumb circling her hardened nipple through the thin fabric of her sweater. She moans into my mouth, arching against my palm.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she gasps when we break for air, even as her body contradicts every word.
I laugh softly against her neck. “Lie to yourself if you must, Aurora. But don’t lie to me.”
Her body trembles against mine, betraying every denial her lips attempt. I press harder against her, pushing her into the rough bark of the oak tree. The moonlight catches in her eyes—defiance and desire battling for dominance.
“Stop fighting this,” I whisper against her throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin where her pulse hammers wildly. “Stop fighting me.”
