"You were talking a lot…"
Ewan's voice was low, teasing, his breath still brushing her lips as he pulled back just enough to meet her startled gaze.
His eyes, dark and searching, held hers captive. Athena blinked up at him, her mind still reeling from the heat of the kiss that had left her dizzy.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again, barely audible, but he silenced her with another kiss—firmer this time, deeper, his hands sliding around her waist, anchoring her to him like she might disappear if he let go.
The air between them thinned. Their breaths mingled, their lips moving in unison—desperate, forgiving, aching. It wasn't the kind of kiss that burned; it was the kind that healed. Each movement felt like a word unsaid, each sigh like a confession.
When she finally broke free, gasping softly, Athena almost wept from relief. Tears brimmed in her eyes, trembling as she whispered, "I thought you'd be angry with me… about the company, everything."
