And for the rest of the night, the only thing I felt was immense pleasure and undying lust. The rhythm of our bodies and labored breathing were all I knew. Our moans and groans echoing throughout the room were all I could hear.

FIFTY-ONE: SORE

Turning around, I reached out for a warm body beside me, but all I found was emptiness. Just the crinkled sheet and his lingering scent. Frowning, I opened my eyes and looked around.

There was no sign of him in the dimmed room. Even the bathroom’s door was ajar just as we left it last night.

Where was he?

I checked my mobile for the time. Three in the morning. Where could he go this early?

A gust of cool air touched my face, giving me my answer. The glass door of the balcony was open.

Clutching the blanket around me as I went to get up, a hiss left my lips at the pain that shot up in my lower region. Memories of last night flooded my mind, heating my cheeks.

There was even a delicious soreness across my entire body.

Achilles Valencian was true to his word. He punished me sweetly by taking me again and again until I couldn’t move any limbs the entire night. He was insatiable. And… perfect.

I bit my lip as another blush rose to my neck.

This time, I took it slow, securing the blanket around me. Padding to the balcony, I found him standing near the railing. Shirtless, his jeans hung low around his hips. His gaze lost in the dazzling light of the city below.

I walked to him and wrapped my arms around him from behind, kissing his ripped back.

“Rosebud?” Turning around with narrowed eyes, he pulled me into his warmth and hugged me closer. “What are you doing here? You should be asleep.”

“Shouldn’t I ask you the same?” Rubbing my hand against his chest, I felt his smooth, yet hard muscles.

Taking my hands, he kissed each of my knuckles. The blanket pooled around to my waist, and his gray eyes didn’t hesitate to stare, making my cheeks hot.

I placed my head on his chest.

“Are you shying away from me, Rosebud?” he teased. But I didn’t miss the huskiness and dark edge in his voice. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen everything already. Touched you. ”His grip tightened around me, tone dropping to a whisper, “Devoured you. You don’t need to shy away from me, my rose.”

He again changed the nickname. In these last two and a half months, I’ve realized he had three names for me. When he was all affectionate, he called me Rosebud. When he had perverted thoughts, he called me his rose. And when he was all serious and angry, he’d call me by my full name, Emerald. And I loved each one of them.