Sunlight filtered through the sleek windows of the Wolfe penthouse, dancing across soft sheets and bare skin.
Talia blinked awake slowly, her lashes fluttering against Ethan's chest. One of his arms was wrapped securely around her waist, the other tucked under his head. He was still asleep, completely still, like the world didn't exist outside this bed.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel alone. Or afraid. Or even annoyed.
She felt… safe.
Which was probably dangerous, she thought dryly.
Last night had been, Goshh!. She still hadn't wrapped her head around it. What started as a soft, lingering kiss in her studio turned into stolen touches against the hallway wall… then whispers, laughter, breathless confessions in the dark.
It wasn't just sex.
It was something unspoken. Claiming. Healing. Honest.
Talia reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Ethan's forehead.
He stirred, eyes still closed. "That's illegal."
"What is?"
