Morning light cut across the bed and made everything that happened in the dark feel sharper.

Elena woke with her tank top still twisted above her breasts and a dull, restless ache between her legs. The memory of Grant’s mouth and fingers returned in a rush — the way he had sucked her nipples, the thick stretch of his fingers inside her, the rough promise he had left against her ear. She pressed her thighs together and stared at the ceiling until the heat in her face became unbearable.

Downstairs, Grant was already in the kitchen.

He stood at the counter in dark joggers and a gray t-shirt, pouring coffee....