Sera's pov
The floor is too soft, too forgiving for what’s burning between us now.
Cassian’s arms tighten around me—still buried deep, still twitching inside me from his release—and then he’s rising in one fluid motion, taking me with him.
My legs are locked around his waist, ankles crossed at the small of his back, but he doesn’t carry me to the bed. No. He turns, strides the three steps to the small vanity table against the wall—the one cluttered with perfume bottles, lipsticks, the mirror that’s about to witness everything.
He sets me down on the edge, rough enough that the bottles rattle. My ass hits the cool wood; a sharp contrast to the fever of my skin.
He doesn’t pull out. He just spreads my thighs wider with his hips, plants both hands on either side of me, caging me again
