Nathan lay sprawled on the soft linen sheets, his muscled frame half-draped across the warm body of Fulvia, who still trembled gently beneath the aftershocks of their first time. Her breath came ragged and shallow, chest rising in uneven waves, nipples tight with the afterglow, skin dewed in sweat. Her lips remained parted, glistening, as if her body still hadn't caught up with what had just happened.
She looked undone. Beautifully undone.
Nathan, meanwhile, was calm. Too calm, perhaps. His breathing had already slowed to a steady rhythm, as if the act had barely nudged his stamina—because it hadn't. Compared to Fulvia's mortal frame, flushed and spent, his own body held a resilience she couldn't match. He could've kept going. He wanted to keep going.
