Rain's POV:
The anticipation coils around my spine like a live wire, the tension thickening between my thighs until I can feel the heavy, honeyed heat of my own arousal seeping onto the rug.
The room is silent, save for the rhythmic pop of the dying fire and the low, distant rumble of a storm rolling in from outside.
Dane had told me to stay. To wait. To keep my knees pressed into the floor, my eyes cast down.
The cool draft from the hallway grazes my bare chest, sending a sharp shiver through me that makes the dark skin around my nipples pucker and ache. I can hear him—the heavy, purposeful crunch of his feet on the gravel just outside the window, then the thud of the door. My heart hammers against my ribs, a trapped bird, as his footsteps grow louder, vibrating through the floorboards and into my bones.
I keep my eyes cast down, staring at the intricate, faded patterns of the ruined rug, my hair shielding my face .
