The heavy, rhythmic drumming of the November rain against the floor-to-ceiling glass was the only sound left in the sprawling penthouse.
Ryan remained seated on the edge of the velvet sectional, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Zara was entirely draped over him, her slick, flushed skin plastered to his chest.
Her heartbeat fluttered wildly against his ribs, an exhausted bird trapped in a cage.
Her arms hung limply over his shoulders, her dark hair a tangled, beautiful disaster cascading down his back.
He didn't rush to break the connection. He let the absolute silence of the room stretch, allowing the sheer, staggering weight of what had just happened to settle permanently into the foundation of their reality.
Slowly, his hands slipped to her waist. He gripped her hips and lifted her, easing her off his shaft.
Zara let out a soft, fractured whimper at the loss of heat, her inner walls giving a final, weak flutter as he slid free.
