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Chapter 332: Heated
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... the thin ice-silver slip as though the fabric were an insult keeping him from what was his.
He cupped her waist, thumbs tracing the flare of her hips, then higher, groping the soft weight of her breasts through the silk until her nipples peaked hard against his touch. Every stroke was possessive, reverent, hungry.
Eris tried to hold onto the last threads of composure. "Soren—this is—you need to, "
"Need to what?" His lips brushed the shell of her ear, breath cool and deli ...
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