Yulia's lips curved in a slow, knowing smile at his words. "Then show me," she whispered, her fingers brushing lightly along his jaw.
Asher didn't need further encouragement. He pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together like they had been meant to for years. She let out a quiet gasp when his hand slid along her back, drawing her into him fully. The faint scent of her perfume—warm, spiced, and utterly intoxicating—filled his senses.
They moved inside, the balcony doors left half-open, letting in the cool night air. The city lights cast a golden glow across her skin as her jacket slid from her shoulders. Every look she gave him was both an invitation and a challenge.
"Asher…" she breathed, her voice low, almost husky, as his lips found the curve of her neck.
The rest of the night blurred into heat, whispered words, and the sound of laughter between stolen kisses.
The Next Morning
