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Alison knew exactly what that look of intensity in Harker’s eyes meant—pleasure, lots of pleasure. His dark gaze roamed down her body, incinerating everywhere it touched.
“Take off your robe.”
“Ah...If we’re going to recreate our wedding night, shouldn’t you make me and yourself a drink?” That’d been what had happened right before she’d laughed.
“You can have mine.” He took two steps and stopped in front of her, wrapping her fingers around the glass. His skin was hot and rough, a delicious contrast to the smooth, cold glass.
She took a sip, wrinkling her nose as the bourbon burned a path down her throat.
“Not to your liking?”
“It’s okay. A little strong but okay.” She took another sip.
“Let me have a taste.”
“Oh sure, we’ll share.” She handed him the glass and his eyes
