Another cramp rolls through me – stronger this time – and I make a broken sound before I can bite it back, fingers fisting in the sheets.
The door creaks open.
“Lani?”
A voice. Soft. Careful.
Not Sol.
I blink, struggling to focus as footsteps approach the bed. The mattress dips slightly, weight settling near my legs.
Koa.
His scent reaches me a second later – lighter, breezier, familiar in a way that doesn’t snag so hard inside my chest. It’s…intoxicating.
Sunlit, effortless, and addictive, like sea salt on warm sand, with a lingering, soft smokiness that clings to skin.Campfire smoke, I realise. And under it all, a deliciousness that could be mistaken for chocolate. Warm, slightly sweet, with a vanilla-almond depth.Tonka bean.
“You alright?” he asks quietly. “You were making noises.”
Embarrassment flares weakly, but it can’t quite cut through everything else. I try to answer and fail, a breathy whine slipping out instead as another wave of heat washes over me.
His hand hovers, unsure. “Hey…okay. Okay. Don’t move.”
He presses the back of his fingers to my forehead and swears under his breath. “Jesus. You’re burning up.”
I curl instinctively toward the pillow again, chasing that other scent, that steadiness. Koa notices.
His brows knit together. “Sol went downstairs for a minute,” he says slowly. “Do you want me to get him?”
Yes!
The word screams through me so loudly it almost hurts.
But all that comes out is a small, hoarse sound as my body curls tighter, thighs pressing together, heat pooling low and needy and confusing.
Koa stiffens, just a fraction.
“…okay,” he says carefully. “Yeah. I’m gonna get him.”
He doesn’t touch me again. Just stands quickly and leaves the room, footsteps retreating down the hall.
The door closes.
I’m alone again, trapped with the heat, the ache, the scent soaked into the bed.
My body shifts restlessly, chasing comfort, chasing something I don’t understand yet. I clutch the pillow to my chest and breathe Sol’s scent in like it’s oxygen, like I might break apart without it.
Something is wrong with me.
Something is waking up. Clamouring for attention. Clawing to get out.
And the worst part?
My body already knows exactly who it wants.
The door opens again.
This time, there are too many footsteps.