I glanced toward the bedroom, recalling every detail of it unchanged.
“But I put it back because it looked best where it was.”
Liar.
The thought was sharp and dangerous, but I didn’t call her on it. Instead, I let the silence stretch, let her fidget under the weight of my attention. She watched me warily, searching for something in my expression. I only let a slow, knowing smirk curve my mouth.
I reached for her hand, unable to help myself. Her breath hitched the moment our skin touched. I traced the faint markings that wound around her fingers, pretending it was idle curiosity, but it wasn’t. The air between us thickened, humming with something unspoken.
I could see her throat move as she swallowed, her hand trembling in mine. I lifted it slightly, pretending to study her tattoos more closely, even as my pulse thundered. She watched me closely trying to figure something out. I just wanted to seeher squirm some more, so I grabbed her fingers. I could see her chest moving rapidly as I traced the two fingers she plunged into herself. I stared at her as my fingers traced the small tattoos on them.
“W-what are you doing?” she whispered.
“Looking at your tattoos,” I lied softly, not breaking eye contact.
Her brow furrowed, confusion and heat flickering together in her gaze. “Why are your eyes red?”
“Something exciting happened earlier,” I said, letting the words hang.
She hesitated. “What?”
I smiled faintly. “I saw something I never thought I would get to, and it was perfect.”
Her brows knitted tighter, but she didn’t ask more. Instead, she pulled her hand from mine, retreating like she needed space to breathe.
“I’m exhausted,” she said quietly, lowering herself onto the couch.
I stood there for a long moment, watching her settle, my pulse still refusing to slow.
I smiled and went to my bedroom, leaving the door cracked open slightly. The faint creak of the hinges sounded louder than it should have in the quiet house. My chest was tight, pulse thrumming with the heavy awareness that she was just on the other side of that wall.
I slipped off my clothes slowly, every movement deliberate, my skin prickling with leftover tension. Crawling into bed, Elowyn’s scent hit me the moment my head touched the pillow—sweet, flowery, and unmistakably her. It flooded my lungs, filled my head until I could barely think straight.
Fuck.
My hand moved down my stomach before wrapping around my hard length, the roughness of my palm grounding me in the haze of heat spreading through my body. I closed my eyes, and my mind immediately supplied what I shouldn’t be picturing, Elowyn, needy and desperate in my bed, her voice breathless, her body trembling beneath mine.
I pulled my hand away long enough to spit into it, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness before I started stroking myself again. Each movement was a release of everything I’d been holding back.
Fuck.
This time I didn’t just see her touching herself. I saw herunder me,arching, pleading for me to make her cum. Her pretty, honey-colored eyes, soft, wet, undone, looked up at me, begging for more. My hand moved faster, every stroke fueled by the image of her, by the sound of her moans still imprinted in my head.
The way she had whispered my name, barely more than a gasp, had me moaning softly into the darkness. Fuck, what did she picture when she touched herself? Was it me sliding into her? My tongue tracing the edge of her jaw before moving lower? My fingers filling her the way hers had?
Damn, I was close.
My eyes squeezed shut, my stomach tightening as heat pooled low inside me. Every sound, every flicker of memory became her—Elowyn writhing, trembling, coming apart on her fingers. My orgasm slammed into me, sharp and consuming, and I couldn’t stop the rough sound that tore from my throat.
My moan was too loud. My head jerked toward the door. A shadow moved, small, hesitant. Elowyn. Watching.
My heart pounded, adrenaline and lust tangled until I could barely breathe. The idea that she was standing there, seeing me like this, had my veins pulsing with something dark and electric.
I couldn’t see her in the darkness, but Ifelther—her curiosity, her want, the way the air shifted around us.
When I finally stood, I had to force my breathing to even out and went to the bathroom to clean up. The sound of water didn’t drown out the rush in my ears though. When I stepped back into the living space, she was there, pretending to sleep, her body still, breathing too even.
I smiled to myself, my chest still tight as I turned back toward my room and left the door open. Just in case she wanted to look again.
