9The tension in the room was unbearable—thick, electric, and alive. Every breath felt heavy, every second stretched taut like a wire about to snap. Ortega stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained hunger. His dark eyes devoured Ravenna where she lay, hair spilled across the pillows, torn top barely clinging to her skin. The air between them crackled with everything unsaid, everything they’d denied themselves for far too long.He moved like a man possessed by devotion and desperation. Slowly. Deliberately. As if rushing would shatter the sacred weight of this moment. When he finally crawled over her, his body hovered just above hers, close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off him, but not yet touching. The anticipation was smothering deliciously, achingly so.“Ravenna,” he whispered, voice low and rough, like velvet dragged over gravel. His forehead pressed to hers, their breaths mingling. “Look at me.”She did. And the inte
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