The descent from the third floor felt like slipping out of one world and into another—slow, disorienting, each step pulling me further from the quiet haze upstairs.
My shirt hung half-buttoned, skin still alive with Lila's scent: jasmine laced with sweat, bourbon, and that indefinable warmth that was only hers. It lingered on me like a secret I wasn't ready to wash away.
My lips were tender, swollen from hours of her mouth on mine. My fingers remembered the curve of her back, the way her nails had dug in when she came undone.
The afterglow wrapped around me, heavy and golden, even as the muffled thump of bass grew louder, closer, until it vibrated in my chest.
Lila had let me go with a slow, knowing smile—those ice-blue eyes flashing with mischief.
"Give me a little time, Eros," she'd whispered, tracing my jaw with one finger. "I have something for you."
