Freya’s POV

I was still shaking when he took my hand.

“Come.”

His voice was low, rough, the single word carrying more weight than any command he’d given me before. My legs felt heavy, but I let him lead me while I was still naked, skin still flushed and glossy, down the dimly lit hallway to his bedroom.

The door was half-closed behind us.

Moonlight slipped through the half-drawn curtains, painting silver stripes across the neatly made bed. It looked almost innocent—dark sheets, crisp edges, nothing like the chaos we’d just left in the bathroom.

Ryder turned to face me.

He stripped slowly—methodical, and controlled. He took off his shirt...