Lena lay between them, skin still tingling, heart rate slowly dropping from thunder to a steady drum. The room smelled of sex and sweat and the faint cedar from Lucas’s candle down the hall. Sheets tangled around their legs. No one moved to turn on a light or grab a towel. Not yet.Ethan was behind her, chest pressed to her back, one arm draped possessively over her waist. His breathing had evened out, but his fingers kept tracing lazy circles on her stomach—soft, grounding, like he needed the contact to believe this was real.Lucas faced her, propped on one elbow, blond hair wrecked and sticking to his forehead. He reached out and brushed a damp strand from her cheek with his thumb.“You’re quiet,” he said, voice low and rough from earlier groans. “Too much? Or just catching your breath?”Lena turned her head to look at him, then back over her shoulder at Ethan. Both watching her with the same careful intensity.“Not too much,” she said honestly. Her voice came out hoarse. “Just… pro
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