The world outside pressed at the doors—reporters, headlines, whispers—but for one night, Elena shut it all out. She led Daniel through the private corridors of the hotel, her hand locked in his as though afraid he might vanish if she let go.
They slipped into her suite, the city lights spilling through tall windows, painting silver across the polished floor. For the first time, there were no walls between them, no masks of propriety or pretense. Just Elena and Daniel, stripped of their armor.
She turned to face him, her chest rising and falling. For a heartbeat, they simply looked at each other, both wordless at the enormity of what they had crossed into. Then Daniel touched her cheek, his thumb grazing her skin, and the spell broke.
Their mouths met again, softer this time but no less desperate. Elena melted into him, her arms circling his neck as if she had finally come home. His hands roamed her back with reverence, tracing the lines of the woman he had admired from a distance for too long.
Her gown slipped from her shoulders, silk pooling at her feet in a whisper. She stood before him in nothing but lace, every curve illuminated by moonlight. Daniel stilled, his eyes dark with awe.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, voice hoarse.
You Pick, You React
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Elena, so used to flattery as currency, felt the truth in his words like a brand. She pulled him closer, guiding his lips to her collarbone, her breath catching as heat sparked across her skin.
They stumbled toward the bed, laughter breaking between kisses, the tension of weeks unraveling into hunger. Daniel’s shirt came away under her hands, revealing the strength of his chest, the warmth of his skin against hers. He lowered her onto the sheets with care, as though she were something precious, not the untouchable queen the world believed her to be.
For hours, they explored each other—the fierce, the tender, the playful. Elena traced the planes of his body as if memorizing him with her hands. Daniel worshipped her with every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise between gasps and moans. At last, when their bodies lay entwined and slick with sweat, when the frenzy softened into something quieter, Elena rested her head against his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her ear, steady, grounding.
“I don’t remember the last time I felt this alive,” she whispered.
Daniel’s fingers threaded gently through her hair. “Then let’s hold onto it. Whatever storm waits outside, this—” he kissed her forehead, tender and sure “—this is ours.”
Elena closed her eyes, letting herself believe it. For tonight, there was no Regina Velasco, no scandal, no empire at risk. Only the steady rhythm of Daniel’s heart, and the certainty that she no longer wanted to face the world without him.
For the first time in years, Elena Marquez allowed herself peace.
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