Inside the room was silent, except for the steady and slow hum of Cyrus and Camilla’s breathing. Camilla was tucked by his side, their legs tangled as they faced each other—forehead pressed together.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” Cyrus whispered, voice still wrecked, eyes lost in hers.

Camilla brushed a kiss over his lips, smiling softly. “Neither did I. Not like this.”

He kissed her again—slower this time, the kind of kiss that made her feel like he was trying to memorize her. But when their lips parted, her expression shifted, a quiet seriousness settling behind her gaze.

Cyrus noticed immediately. He leaned back slightly, studying her...