The kitchen light was still on, a single warm bulb above the island that turned the granite gold and threw long shadows across the tiles.
It was past two in the morning. Dishes from dinner sat untouched in the sink. A half-empty bottle of red stood beside two neglected glasses. Neither of them had bothered to turn anything off when they came through the door.
Ethan kicked it shut behind them.
Aria was already up on the counter before she could think, thighs parting around his hips as he stepped between them. Her skirt was bunched at her waist, panties dragged to one side and left there—crooked, damp, irrelevant.
His belt buckle clinked once against the edge of the granite as he freed himself, not bothering to shove his jeans down more than necessary.
No condom.
They’d stopped preten
