Liora’s POV
Morning light crept across the room, soft and merciless. The first thing I felt was a certain warmth beneath my palm. Then I remembered. My hand was on Rowan’s chest. For a split second, I didn’t move. My mind tried to piece together what was real and what was a dream, the heated fragments, the pull that had shattered everything logical. But then his breathing shifted, and it was real again. All of it.
The night, the tension, the surrender. My heart lurched. I pulled my hand back like I’d been burned and sat up slowly. My head throbbed faintly, not from alcohol or pain but from the sheer intensity of everything that had happened. Beauty could be dangerous, I’d always known that. But Rowan was proof that danger could wear a calm face, could touch you like it knew exactly
