I carried her from the closet like she weighed nothing, her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms clinging to my neck, her face buried in my shoulder as if she could hide from what she'd just done—what we were about to do.
The walk to the bed was only ten steps, but it felt like crossing a threshold into another life.
The moonlight followed us through the open door, bathing us in its glow as it spilled across the white sheets like liquid silver, turning the room into a cathedral of forbidden devotion.
I laid her down in the center of the bed, slow, reverent, like she was something sacred and breakable and mine. She sank into the mattress with a soft sigh, the sheets cool against her overheated skin, her blonde hair fanning out around her head like a halo she no longer deserved.
Her eyes—those ice-blue eyes that had once commanded boardrooms—were soft now, wide, trusting, in love.
I stood at the foot of the bed and let her look.
Let her see what she'd done to me.
