Dahlia The door clicked shut behind us, sealing out the hollow echoes of the estate. The storm was still raging outside, beating against the reinforced glass of the tall windows, but inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of cedar, damp wool, and the faint, expensive trace of Rafe’s cologne. My shoes left wet, muddy prints across the pristine hardwood floor as he set me down, but I didn't care. My legs felt hollow, the phantom drop of the cliffside still vibrating in the marrow of my bones. Rafe didn't let go of me immediately. His hands lingered on my waist, his fingers pressing through the soft knit of my sweater with a possessive, unyielding heat that reminded me I was entirely at his mercy. "Take those off," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly hum against my skin as he gestured toward my damp denim. "You're freezing." "I don't need your clothes, Rafe," I shot back, though the defiance lacked its usual sharp edge, muffled by the shivering exhaustion creeping into my
Last Updated : 2026-10-01
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