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They moved through the dark hallway in silence, their footsteps muffled by the carpet. The journey up the stairs felt slow, every brush of their shoulders sending a jolt of electricity through Victoria’s system.

By the time they reached the bedroom door, Victoria’s hands were shaking. Emma pushed the wood open, pulling her inside before kicking it shut with her heel. The room was shadowed, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the windowpanes.

Victoria immediately reached past Emma, grabbing the lock. She twisted it shut with a click. Emma watched her secure the door, letting out a quiet laugh in the dark. "Afraid Chloe will barge through that door any second?"

"I am removing all variables," Victoria muttered, turning around. She reached for Emma’s waist, intending to pull her in with the same urgency that had driven them into the shed.

Instead, Emma caught her wrists. She didn't push Victoria away; she simply held her there, halting the rush. Emma stepped in close, wrapping her arms around Victoria’s neck and burying her face in the curve of her shoulder as a soft laugh shook her chest. "Wait," Emma murmured, pulling back just enough to reach for her phone on the dresser. She tapped the screen until a small bell icon appeared. "Alarm set. Six AM."

Victoria stared at the glowing numbers, then looked at the woman smiling at her in the silver light. The anxiety about Monday, the dread of New York, the endless debate about where she belonged—none of it existed inside these four walls. The only thing that mattered was the heat of Emma's skin under her palms.

"You talk too much," Victoria whispered, leaning in to brush her lips against Emma’s jaw.

When Emma kissed her back, there was no collision of teeth, no race toward the mattress. Her mouth was warm and unhurried, parting Victoria’s lips with a patience that made Victoria’s knees weak. They walked backward toward the bed without breaking the kiss, but Emma didn't tear at her clothes.

When the backs of Victoria’s knees touched the mattress, Emma stopped. She reached for the top button of Victoria’s linen shirt, slipping it through the hole with steady fingers. Then the next. She didn't rip the fabric; she peeled it slowly from Victoria’s shoulders, letting the linen pool on the floorboards before pressing her mouth to the bare skin of her collarbone.

Victoria let out a shaky sound, her hands coming up to grip Emma's waist, her nails digging into the denim of Emma's jeans out of sheer habit, trying to speed up the pace. She was used to friction and demand. She didn't know what to do with reverence.

"Slow down, Sterling," Emma whispered against her throat, catching Victoria’s hands and guiding them away from her belt. "We have all night. Let me."

With agonizing care, Emma stripped the rest of their clothes away, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between them. She guided Victoria backward onto the mattress. The cool air hit Victoria’s chest for a second before Emma’s weight settled over her, pressing her down into the sheets.

"Victoria," Emma breathed against her skin. The sound of her own name vibrated straight through her ribs.

Emma’s mouth trailed lower, mapping every inch of her torso with a deliberate slide of her tongue. Every brush of Emma’s lips against her breasts, every press of her palms along her ribs, felt like an act of worship designed to undo the exhaustion of the day. Victoria arched off the mattress, her fingers tangling into the waves of Emma’s hair, silently begging her to close the distance.

Emma took her time, kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh before finally settling between her legs. When she sank two fingers inside her, the breath left Victoria’s lungs in a rush.

It was a deep stretch that made Victoria’s eyes roll back. She cried out into the quiet room. Emma didn't set a punishing pace; she moved with a devastating rhythm, curling her fingers upward while her thumb found the swollen center of Victoria’s nerves, circling it with a steady pressure that stripped away every rational thought Victoria had left.

"Look at me," Emma murmured, her voice rough. She shifted her weight, keeping one palm flat and warm against Victoria’s stomach while her fingers continued that slow, relentless stroke.

Victoria forced her eyes open. Her vision was blurred with heat, but she could see Emma hovering over her in the moonlight, her chest heaving, her green eyes dark and focused entirely on taking care of her.

The intensity of being looked at like that—not as an opponent to conquer, but as the only thing in the world that mattered—snapped the last wire in Victoria’s brain.

The orgasm hit her with the force of a tidal wave. Victoria gasped, her spine bowing off the mattress as pleasure ripped through her core. She dragged Emma’s name out like a plea, her nails digging into Emma's shoulders as her body surrendered, clenching helplessly around Emma’s fingers long after the first wave broke.

Emma stayed right with her, working her through the aftershocks before crawling up the mattress to gather her close, pressing a damp kiss to the corner of Victoria's mouth as the storm quieted into the rhythm of their breathing. Victoria opened her eyes, meeting the dilated warmth in Emma's gaze.

"I set that alarm for six, right?" Emma whispered against Victoria's neck.

Victoria caught Emma by the hips, rolling their weight across the mattress until Emma was pinned beneath her, blonde curls fanned out across the white pillow.

Victoria leaned down, her mouth curving against Emma's throat. "You did... but I don't think we're going to sleep."

Chapter Twenty-One

Victoria

"I reviewed the final structural audit you sent this morning, Victoria," Vance said, leaning back in his leather chair. "The footprint is exactly what we discussed. We demo the house, pave over the grounds, and put up the luxury suites. I want the demolition intent filed by Friday."

Victoria's hands, resting flat on the desk, went perfectly still. She thought of Emma standing in the kitchen downstairs, blind-baking tart shells. She thought of the chaotic flower competition on the exact patch of grass Vance intended to pave over. She needed time. She needed time to understand what to tell Emma. How to tell Emma.

Victoria cleared her throat, forcing her posture to remain immaculate. "Richard, filing a demolition intent now, during the peak summer tourist season, is a tactical error. We need to wait until late October," Victoria lied, desperate to buy Emma time. "The estate is tied to a commercial loan balloon payment. If we file demo permits before the current co-owner officially defaults on that debt, her solicitors could freeze the asset in probate court. We let her default in October, we pay off the bank, and Vance Corp takes the deed uncontested."

Vance frowned, his patience visibly thinning. "I don't do red tape, Victoria. I told you I wanted this moving."