Aiden's "Gladly..." hung in the balcony's mist like a vow sealed in sin, his golden eyes locking onto Amber's with the unyielding pull of a tide claiming shore.
The wind gusted sharper now, carrying the faint, tolling chime of a distant church bell—midnight's mournful knell, as if the heavens themselves paused to witness the fall.
Amber stood before him, habit half-unraveled from her own frantic hands, the wool gaping to bare the inner curves of her full breasts, nipples already peaked and dark against pale skin, begging for the blasphemy his gaze promised.
Her green eyes, once fractured emeralds of pious clarity, now swirled with a storm of lust—pupils blown wide, the soft heart beneath her vows fracturing under the weight of his nearness.
She trembled, not from chill, but from the fire he'd kindled: a deep, throbbing ache between her thighs, her core slick and clenching with desperate need, as if her body had waited lifetimes for this unholy sacrament.
