The room of the healing center stood empty. Afternoon light spilled through the open windows, the breeze slipping in to stir the curtains in soft, restless waves.
Only one sound filled the space. It was the low, hungry rhythm of their breathing.
On the bed, Amon and Scarlett lay tangled together, bodies pressed flush, heat blooming between them.
His left arm was locked tight around her waist, hauling her in until every soft curve of her melted against the hard lines of his chest. Her full breasts crushed against him, the heavy, yielding weight of them spilling through the thin sky-blue blouse, warm and plush as pillows.
He could feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat, the heat of her skin seeping into his own, the subtle rise and fall of her breathing matching his.
Her fingers were buried in the dark hair at the back of his head, nails grazing his scalp as she pulled him closer still.
