The night didn’t feel real.Cassandra lay awake in Ethan’s arms, his breathing slow and steady against her shoulder. But she wasn’t asleep. Couldn’t be. Not after the letter. Not after hearing that single, chilling sentence.“You were never meant to survive me.”She touched Ethan’s hand where it rested against her stomach. His warmth anchored her.Yet the fear crept back.Fear that nothing Whitlock said was ever accidental. That even in death, he was guiding her next move.Ethan stirred.“Cass?” His voice was hoarse.She whispered, “Tell me again.”“Tell you what?”“That I’m free.”Ethan pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. “You’re free.”“I want to believe that.”“Then let me show you.”She rolled toward him in the dark, eyes glossy. Their faces close, breath mingling.“I need to feel something real tonight.”“You will,” he promised.He kissed her softly, but with depth, his tongue sliding against hers until her body responded, a slow, molten ache between her thighs.She let him gui
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