The lock on the guest bedroom door clicked with a heavy, final sound.
Damien didn't move away from the door immediately. He leaned back against it, his chest heaving, the gleaming, oiled expanse of his bare torso rising and falling with ragged breaths.
He looked down at his trousers. The fabric was strained to the breaking point.
"We have eighteen minutes," he rasped, his eyes burning into Aria. "Fix it."
Aria stood in the center of the room, her hands still slick with the body oil she had massaged into him moments ago. She rubbed her palms together, the friction creating a wet, slippery sound.
The "Madam" persona she had adopted gave her a boost of liquid courage, but underneath, her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She had talked a big game, but the reality of being alone in a bedroom with a half-naked, aroused Damien was a different story.
"Come here," she commanded, her voice trembling slightly. She pointed to the edge of the bed.
