Alyssa’s POV
The warmth still lingers on my skin—wrapped around me like a second breath. I don’t know if it’s the grove or the man beside me... or if it’s me. If I’ve changed. If I’m changing.
Zev’s fingers slide into my hair again, gentle but full of a hunger I feel humming through my whole body. Then his lips are on mine once more. Deeper this time.
Slower.
Like he’s trying to memorize every curve, every breath. My hands find their way to his face, brushing over the sharp line of his jaw, the stubble on his chin scratching my palm.
Gods... I want him. I want to lose myself in him—right here under the moonlight, where the air tastes like magic and wind swirls around us like it knows our names.
I tug at his shirt, fingertips brushing his stomach, warm and hard beneath the fabric.
But he stops me.
Zev pulls back, breath ragged, chest heaving. “Alyssa…”
His voice is hoarse. Shaken.
I step back, flushed and embarrassed. “Sorry,” I whisper, not sure if I mean it.
But he shakes his head.
