Warmth. That was the first thing Natalia registered as consciousness slowly returned. Warmth and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath her ear, strong and sure. The second thing she noticed was the weight of a hand resting possessively on her backside, fingers splayed across the curve of her ass with casual ownership that sent an unexpected thrill through her body.
Natalia opened her eyes, blinking away the fog of sleep. Dim morning light filtered through unfamiliar curtains, casting long shadows across the room. This wasnāt her room. The walls were the wrong color, the furniture arranged differently, and the scentāoh god, the scent. Sweat and soap and something unmistakably masculine that made her stomach tighten and her toes curl against the sheets.
Satoriās room. Satoriās bed. Satoriās powerful body beneath hers.
The memories flooded back in a rush of sensation so vivid she felt her body respond immediately, a liquid heat pooling between her thighs. His mouth between her legs, hot and demanding. His fingers inside her, knowing exactly how to curve and press. The way heād made her beg, desperate and shameless. The way heād called her a good girl and how those two simple words had broken something fundamental inside her, shattering her pride into glittering, beautiful fragments.
Natalia shifted slightly, and her inner thigh brushed against something hard and hot beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, making her gasp involuntarily. Fresh wetness pooled between her legs, and she had to bite her lip hard enough to taste copper to keep from moaning aloud.
She was still naked from the waist down, she realized with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. Her sleep shirt had ridden up to just below her breasts, leaving her exposed against him. One of her legs was hooked over his, her core pressed against his thigh in an intimacy that should have mortified her but instead only intensified the ache building inside her.
Natalia looked up at Satoriās sleeping face. His features were relaxed in sleep, softer than when he was awake, almost vulnerable in their repose. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths beneath her cheek. She remembered how heād held her after sheād fallen apart for the second time, how heād stroked her hair and whispered praises against her skin like prayers.
Why didnāt he fuck me?
He had her completely at his mercy. She would have let him do anythingāeverythingāto her body. Yet heād stopped. Heād given her pleasure until she was incoherent with it, until she was nothing but sensation and need, and then heād just held her until she fell asleep in his arms.
The thought was maddening. It made her feel both cherished and cheated, protected and denied.
Nataliaās gaze traveled down his body, taking in the powerful lines of his chest and arms, the definition that hadnāt been there months ago. When had Satori become this... magnificent? She barely recognized him as the same person sheād despised for so long. Her eyes caught on a dark, purplish mark on his neck, just below his jaw. A mark sheād made with her mouth in the heat of passion, a primal claiming she didnāt even remember doing.
Satori slept on, unaware of her scrutiny or the possessive turn of her thoughts. His breathing remained deep and even, his face peaceful in the soft morning light.
Natalia wanted to bite him, to sink her teeth into the muscle of his shoulder and leave an imprint heād feel for days. But she didnāt want to wake him. Not yet. This quiet moment felt precious, a stolen interlude outside the complications of their daily lives, their history, their future.
Instead, she settled for something gentler. Carefully, Natalia pressed her lips to his jaw. The light stubble there rasped against her skin, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. She trailed feather-light kisses down his neck, across his collarbone, to the hard plane of his chest. Each kiss was a silent thank you. Each kiss was a wordless plea for more.
His skin tasted faintly of salt, and she could feel the heat of him radiating through her lips like a furnace. A wave of affection crashed over her, so intense it made her breath catch in her throat. She wanted this. She wanted him. Not just his body, but all of him. His smirks, his arrogance, his unexpected tenderness.
How had this happened? When had her hatred transformed into this overwhelming need that consumed her thoughts and dreams?
Natalia pushed herself up carefully, hovering over his face. In sleep, his features looked almost innocent, the harsh angles softened by vulnerability. The red hair sheād once thought garish now seemed vibrant, alive with an energy that called to something deep within her. She reached out, brushing a strand from his forehead with trembling fingers.
She was going to do it. She was going to steal a kiss, a real kiss on the lips, while he slept. Just one, to satisfy the craving that had been building since sheād opened her eyes in his arms.
Natalia leaned down, her hair falling around them like a silken purple curtain. Her lips hovered a breath away from his. The world narrowed to this single perfect moment, balanced on the edge of something profound.
Click.
The sound of a key turning in the front door lock shattered the silence like a gunshot. A cold, electronic voice drifted from the living room:
"Front door unlocked. Welcome home."
Natalia froze, her heart stopping mid-beat. Then came the voices.
"Itās good to be back," her fatherās deep baritone rumbled through the apartment. "I hope the kids havenāt burned the place down."
Kimikoās laugh, light and musical. "Iām sure theyāve been fine. Theyāre adults now, after all."
"Huh," Lukaās voice said, much closer now. "It doesnāt smell like a pigsty for once."
Pure, undiluted panic crashed over Natalia like an arctic wave. She was in Satoriās bed. Half-naked. On top of him. At what must be mid-morning on a Saturday.
And daddy was home.