Velika Island — Fisherwoman’s Cottage, Early Morning.
The morning light slipped through the cracks of the shutters, casting soft golden stripes across the little bed. Isla stirred first, her body sore in all the right ways, her mind still foggy from the night before.
Nathan’s arm was draped lazily around her waist, his chest pressed to her back, his breath warm against her hair.
For a moment, she allowed herself to just… feel it. The weight of him, the warmth, the quiet intimacy she hadn’t known she craved.
Isla
(murmurs) You’re heavy.
Nathan
(half-asleep, chuckling) You didn’t seem to mind last night.
She felt her cheeks heat as he nuzzled the back of her neck, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there.
Nathan
(voice low, teasing) You’re dangerous, you know.
Isla
(rolls to face him) You already told me that.
Nathan
(grins faintly) Still true.
They lay there a moment, just looking at each other. His green-gray eyes seemed softer in the daylight, but there was still that hunger simmering beneath the surface — and she could feel it in the way his fingers skimmed along her bare hip.
Isla
(arches a brow) You’re not thinking about—
Nathan
(cuts her off, murmuring) Always.
He dipped his head to kiss her again, slower this time but no less intense.
But as the kiss deepened, a sudden sharp knock on the front door broke through the quiet.
Isla froze. Nathan stilled above her, his muscles tense.
Voice Outside the Door
(shouting through the wind) Isla? You home?
Viktor
It's Viktor.
Her heart leapt into her throat. Viktor — the fisherman from the next house over. And the last person she wanted to see Nathan half-naked in her bed.
Nathan’s eyes met hers, a silent question in them. Isla swallowed, her pulse hammering.
Isla
(whisper) Hide. Now.
And just like that, the morning after became far more complicated than either of them expected.
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