Julian stared at her, his mind struggling to grasp the harsh reality of the morning. He tried to sit up, only to wince as a sharp, agonizing ache shot through his lower back.
"Damn it," he hissed through his teeth. His waist felt like it was splitting apart. Wasn't this supposed to be the other way around? What the hell was happening?
He dragged a heavy hand through his messy silver hair, glaring at his immaculate wife. She stood by the vanity, already dressed in her slate-gray overcoat. Yet, the tailored fabric pulled tight across her chest, betraying the subtle, hardened points of her nipples pressing against the silk lining beneath—a lingering tease from the long night.
"What the heck did you take to get so energetic so fast?" he rasped, his voice rough from hours of groaning.
Elara paused. She tilted her head, her glass-bead eyes meeting his. "Nothing," she replied smoothly. "I am always this energetic."
