The room hummed with the echo of him.
With Ravić draped over me, our legs tangled beneath the comforting sheets, his breath warm against the hollow of my throat. All while I tried to catch my breath, like my body was still trying to keep up with the memory of his mouth, his hands, the way he'd called my name just minutes ago. Like a vow, or a plea. Like he was trying to memorize it onto his tongue, before reality tried to take it away.
He pressed another slow kiss on my collarbone. The kind that was tender. Sweet, lazy and unhurried. I can't help but feel my bones, starting to melt already.
"You're trouble," he murmured against my skin, his voice low and husky from the aftermath of our lovemaking.
His fingers tracing idle lines from my ribs, up to my chest, lingering there like he was trying to memorize the feel of my skin, underneath his fingertips. "A beautiful kind of trouble. Perfect."
