Page 3 of Velvet Vaughn

The rest unfolded organically, neither of them rushing or dressing it up as something it wasn’t. They were choosing it deliberately, if only for a little while.

For a few hours, the rest of the world stopped existing.

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Anja lay motionless, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the even rhythm of Leo’s breathing beside her as everything rearranged itself back into place.

His arm was draped across her waist, solid and warm. Grounding.

Temporary.

She turned her head a fraction, taking him in by the dim light of the moon. Some of his usual edge had worn down. Anja hadn’t seen him this relaxed before, and an unfamiliar tenderness stirred inside her that she didn’t immediately welcome.

She returned her attention to the ceiling.

This was the part she avoided. Not the physical side of it. Sex was simple and usually predictable. Except with Leo. He was creative, attentive, and mind-blowing. It had been the most incredible experience of her life. Everything that came after was where things got complicated.

“You’re thinking,” Leo murmured.

Naturally, he’d noticed.

“It’s what I do.”

He shifted beside her, propping up on an elbow. “What are you thinking about?”

She met his gaze without softening the truth. “You leave tomorrow.”

Silence settled between them that wasn’t uncomfortable, but honest.

“You always this fast to shut things down?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t that get exhausting?”

She considered the question. Thought about the life she lived, the work she did, the constant unpredictability and risk. There wasn’t space for anything that could turn into a vulnerability.

Or someone she couldn’t afford to lose.

“It’s efficient,” she replied.

He let out a frustrated exhale before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her neck. Lighter this time. Not driven by heat. Just there.

It surprised her more than anything else tonight.

She let the sensation wash over her for a heartbeat, then gathered herself before the moment took on more weight than it should have.

Because it couldn’t. Leo would go back to St. Louis. She would stay here.

And whatever this was would remain inside the lines they’d drawn around it.

One night.

A choice.

Nothing more.

“Get some sleep,” she told him.

He didn’t move right away. Then his arm tightened a fraction around her, an acknowledgment without an argument.

“Yeah,” he answered.

But neither of them slept that night.