Here, under the blanket, the world felt distant. Distant and quiet.
No cameras. No watchers. No rules.
Just heat, breath, and the unmistakable awareness of two bodies sharing the same narrow space.
Heaven's back hit the pillows, and she found herself face to face with Ross—bare skin brushing against her clothed body, her senses flaring in every direction.
The scent of him was clean and warm, tinged with something spicy from whatever soap he used. It was suddenly hard to think clearly.
Ross propped himself up on one elbow, his face just inches from hers.
"Relax," he murmured, voice low and intimate. "I didn't bring you here to devour you. Unless…" His lips curved with amusement. "…you ask nicely."
She glared at him—or tried to. But the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.
"You're impossible," she whispered, more breath than voice.
"And you're beautiful when you're flustered," Ross replied without missing a beat.
