The fire in the hearth cast a warm, orange glow across the room, but the heat inside Marissa's body was far hotter. She was already overcome by lust. It had started hours ago, from the very moment she saw him walk into the drawing room.
She remembered the image vividly. He had been wearing his full commander's attire—the black coat, the silver buttons, the heavy boots. His hands had been resting on the hilt of his sword. He had looked glorious. He had looked powerful. He had looked like hers.
Since that moment, a slow, steady ache had been building between her legs. She felt her insides spill, a wet, heavy heat that demanded attention. She was already wet, her body preparing for him long before they entered the bedroom.
She looked down at him now. He was tied to the bed, naked and vulnerable, yet his eyes were dark with the same desire she felt.
