The silence afterwards belonged to them alone.
It settled over the ruined bed with the slow confidence of moonlight, intimate and shameless, draping itself across bare shoulders, tangled sheets, and the faint silver gleam of Hell's Paradise Island beyond the glass.
The city below was still awake... rich cities rarely slept properly.
They only dimmed their lights, pretended at discipline, and continued sinning in private behind tinted windows and imported marble.
One tower after another surrendered its brightness to the depth of the night until the island looked less like a metropolis and more like a kingdom quietly lowering its voice.
Inside the penthouse, nothing hurried.
Melissa lay against him with the languid, unapologetic sprawl of a woman who had been thoroughly claimed and saw no reason to pretend otherwise.
Her naked body was a study in beautiful ruin.
