Willow groaned softly and buried her face into Zane's chest.
His skin was warm beneath her cheek, steady and familiar, the subtle rise and fall of his breathing grounding her in a way nothing else could. The room smelled faintly of him, clean and understated, layered now with the softness of shared closeness. Her body felt loose and heavy at the same time, pleasantly spent, wrapped in that hazy warmth that followed connection rather than urgency.
"You are bad," she murmured, voice muffled but unmistakably accusing. "Through and through, Zane."
His chest vibrated beneath her cheek as he laughed, slow and unrepentant, the sound rolling through him with relaxed ease.
"That sounds suspiciously like praise."
