The air in the room was thick with heat, a humid pulse that clung to Atlas's skin as he shifted on the worn leather sofa. His hips bucked faster, almost involuntarily, as Eli's gaze locked onto his—a smirk curling the edges of her lips, sharp and knowing. She was toying with him, unraveling him thread by thread, and he could feel it.
The way her eyes glinted with intent, like a predator circling prey, told him everything. This wasn't just about pleasure. No, Eli was playing a deeper game—softening him, breaking him down, maybe angling for something more later. A favor. A promise. Something she'd coax out of him when his defenses were shattered.
He didn't know what she wanted. Not yet. But he'd seen this before, back in the dark continent, under the suffocating canopy of jungle nights. Eli always knew her way around him, knew how to find the cracks in his armor, the soft spots he couldn't hide.
