LYRE
More knocks.
The bliss of orgasm has already faded, and Aaron tugs his boxers on swiftly. Thankfully, he isn't one of those men who'd lay there dazed for hours after even a brief burst of arcana.
The muscle in his jaw ticks as he watches me yank my shirt down over my hips. It barely covers what it needs to—just enough to maintain the illusion of modesty, which has never been my strong suit anyway.
Another sharp knock at the door. Owen has zero patience and even less consideration for what he's interrupting.
I slide on my panties, ignoring Aaron's glower as I move toward the door. His possessiveness radiates off him, hot and aura-dense. He looks ready to lunge between me and whoever's on the other side.
I roll my eyes. As if he has any claim over who sees my body. I could answer the door stark naked if I wanted to.
I don't, though. Some battles aren't worth fighting.
