As we cleaned ourselves up and slipped out of the archives, the city outside felt different. The neon lights were still blurred, the rain was still falling, but the world no longer felt like a cage. I walked beside him, my hand tucked into his, feeling the hidden power humming beneath his skin. I was no longer just an intern in a basement of old books; I was the woman who had tamed the wolf, and the wolf who had finally found his home.
The drive to Julian’s penthouse was a blur of rain-streaked glass and suffocating tension. He drove a sleek, black obsidian-colored sedan that smelled of expensive leather and that same intoxicating musk.
His hand didn't leave my thigh for a single second, his fingers digging into my skin, occasionally grazing the hem of my skirt. Every time he touched me
