The fire in the grate popped, a sharp sound in the heavy, heated silence of the study.
But the shame was a cold splash of water.
"But…" Ines stammered, her voice small and tight. She looked at Carcel, her eyes wide with distress. "This is… this is embarrassing."
To have him touch her was one thing. It was passion. It was romance. It was being swept away.
To touch herself, while he watched with those dark, intense, unblinking eyes? It felt… strange.
She tried to pull back. She retracted her hand, her muscles tensing to flee from the intimacy of the moment.
Carcel didn't let her.
He held her hand there. His grip wasn't painful, but it was absolute. He covered her hand with his own, pressing it back against her center.
"No, Ines," he said. His voice was low, a rough command that vibrated in the quiet room. "Don't pull your hand away."
Ines bit her lip. "But…"
"Shh," he soothed.
