"Marcus…"
After everything had passed, Willow lay limply in his arms, too comfortable to move. Nestled against his chest, she replayed everything that had just happened, his sudden dominance, his overwhelming hunger for her, the way he had lost control.
Instead of fear, her heart filled with a quiet, blooming satisfaction.
She had finally reached him. Finally become his woman. And he wanted her, burned for her, desired her without restraint.
That realization wrapped around her like warmth, intoxicating and soft. She sank deeper into his embrace, listening to his breathing, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, letting herself drift in everything he gave her.
Held within his broad arms, supported by his strength, she did not want to move at all.
If she could, she would freeze this moment forever, let it linger as something eternal. This warmth, this sense of belonging, it was something she had longed for far too long.
But reality refused to stay quiet. What came next?
