Page 43 of Ava After Midnight

And at the center of it all, Domingo.

Lounging shirtless against the pillows like a king waiting for his queen. Burnished skin, sculpted muscle, eyes dark withpurpose. Every inch of him exudes ownership, control—except for the way his gaze softens, just slightly, when it lands on me.

Something in my chest tightens. I almost need his steady hands just to keep me grounded.

Almost.

"Something on your mind,mi alma?" His voice is a slow caress, deep and dripping with promise. His accent is thicker when he wants me—and right now, it’s suffocating.

My thighs clench involuntarily. I know that voice. I know what it does to me.

I let my sarong drop, baring myself to him. To his gaze that scorches more than the Bali sun ever could.

"You could say that," I murmur, trailing a single finger along the intricate footboard. My pulse pounds like a war drum. "I was just thinking about how... thorough you’ve been in keeping your promises this week."

His lips curve into a wicked, knowing smirk. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm." I crawl onto the bed, slow, deliberate, reveling in how his hungry gaze tracks every movement like I’m the only thing in existence.

"The waterfall. The sunset cruise. The temple ruins." I pause, dragging the moment out. "Not to mention the things we did in that cabana yesterday..."

His low growl reverberates through my entire body, and I almost let him catch me when he reaches for me. Almost.

Instead, I slip just out of reach, my grin teasing.

"Careful,princesa," he warns, his voice dark and dripping with heat. "You’re playing with fire."

I lift my chin, daring. "Maybe I want to get burned."

His restraint snaps.

With a rough, commanding grip, he hauls me against him, claiming my mouth with a kiss that feels like devotion and destruction all at once.

I melt. I ignite.

"Greedy girl," he rasps against my lips, his hands tracing, gripping, branding. "Never satisfied, are you?"

"Not when it comes to you." It’s not just a confession. It’s a vow.

Something flickers in his eyes—hunger, reverence, something too deep for words. In a heartbeat, he has me pinned beneath him, his weight pressing into me like gravity itself.

"How do you want to be worshipped,mi diosa?" His teeth graze my pulse, slow, deliberate. One hand skims lower, teasing, taunting, as his voice drops to something dark and full of reverence. "Give me your orders. Let me prove—again and again—that I was made to serve your pleasure."

I shiver. Not from the breeze, not from the cooling night air. From him. From the truth in his voice.

"I want your mouth." My voice shakes only slightly as my fingers thread through his hair, dragging him lower. "Everywhere."

His groan is pure sin, vibrating through my skin as he kisses, bites, and devours his way down my body. His mouth follows the path his hands have memorized over and over again this past week, taking his time, savoring every tremble, every gasp.

By the time he reaches the ache between my thighs, I’m wrecked, writhing, begging.

"Please, Domingo..."

His breath ghosts over my slick heat, teasing, tormenting.

"Please what,mi reina?" His voice is silken ruin, pure torment wrapped in honey.

"Your tongue." It comes out a wrecked rasp. "I need it."

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