Malachai presses one final, lingering kiss into the skin of my neck.
Then he pulls back.
I'm left panting against the vanity, my body a live wire of unmet need. "Nooo," I groan, pathetically and desperately. "Why did you stop?"
He's already stepping back, adjusting himself. His eyes still hold that same desire-fuelled hunger but now there's another emotion sparking in them.
Excitement.
"Pack a bag," he says, his voice equally rough with lust and buzzing with intent.
I blink, my lust-fogged brain struggling to process. "What?"
"I've got to make some calls." He's at the door in two strides, flashing me a smile that. "Be ready in thirty."
The door clicks shut.
I stare at it, naked save for my underwear, thoroughly kissed, completely un-fucked, and utterly confused. My skin still hums where his mouth and hands had been.
"What the fuck," I whisper to the empty room.
Then I startle into action.
Pack a bag. Pack a bag.
