He carried me across the threshold of his bedroom, not like a captive, but like a prize of war he was afraid might vanish with the morning light. The room was a larger, more severe extension of the suite's soul—a vast landscape of charcoal, slate, and razor-sharp lines. In the center, a bed so large it felt less like furniture and more like a geographic feature, dressed in impossibly crisp, white linens. An altar. I couldn’t decide if it was for a sacrifice or a coronation.
He set me down, but didn’t let go. His hands slid from my back to my waist, anchoring me to him as if I might bolt. The kiss broke, but only so we could breathe. He pressed his forehead against mine, and the only sounds in the pressurized silence of the room were our ragged, desperate breaths.
"Stay," he whispered. Th
