Liam stood by the window, the weight of Lilith's words still echoing in his head. A week of impulsive behavior, no brakes, no filter—just raw instinct. He gritted his teeth, trying to calm the storm building in his chest. The bourbon in his glass swirled as he tightened his grip, staring out at the city's lights.
Then he felt her.
Lilith's body pressed gently against his back as her arms wrapped around him. Her warmth was unmistakable, comforting and dangerous all at once. Her fingers, cold at first but quickly warming, slipped under his robe, sliding up the lines of his chest. Her touch was slow, deliberate, her nails dragging just enough to make him shiver.
"Stop," Liam said quickly, voice strained.
Lilith smiled against his ear. "What?" she whispered, her voice teasing. "You don't like it?"
