(Private Island, Night of the Tropical Storm)
A tropical storm howled across the sea, waves crashing furiously against the cliffs.
Inside the villa, the fire in the hearth flickered wildly with the wind.
Carson wrapped a blanket around Alia, drawing her close into his arms.
She had just returned from an international summit, the chill of rain still clinging to her skin.
"Tokyo's toxin samples have been completely destroyed,"
she murmured against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Sophie did better than we ever expected."
Carson's fingers combed gently through her hair, massaging her scalp with tender ease.
"You need to rest," he said softly.
Alia looked up at him, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
"And how exactly do you plan to help me relax?"
His answer was a searing kiss,
his hands tracing down her spine as he pressed her deeper into the warmth of the blanket.
The firelight cast shifting shadows over their entwined bodies,
the raging storm outside fading into a distant hum.
Later, as Alia curled sleepily against him,
Carson whispered against her ear,
"Next month, let's go to Iceland. I want to show you the aurora."
"Why Iceland?" she mumbled drowsily.
"Because it has the cleanest sky in the world,"
his lips grazed her shoulder blade,
"and you deserve everything pure and beautiful."