The good days.

His bare chest gleamed with moisture, muscles taut and defined, each ridge and line catching the soft glow of the candlelight. A loose white shirt hung over his shoulder, forgotten, while his lower half was clad in dark trousers that sat dangerously low on his hips.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The sound of his groans replayed in my mind.

Atlas took one slow step forward, then another, his gaze locking onto mine like a predator spotting something deliciously trapped. A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips as he took in my flushed face, my tangled hair, the way I clutched the sheets around me as if that would shield me from the way he made my body react.

"You're awake," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. "And look like a rabbit caught stealing, I see."

I swallowed the bite of bread I took , my fingers gripping the sheets tighter. "I—I was hungry."