I slid out of his lap, my bare feet hitting the cold stone floor of the pavilion. I did not reach for my discarded leather tunic or my fur-lined cloak. I stood entirely naked before him, my deep-toned skin flushed with residual heat, my chin held high. I placed my hands on his broad, heavily scarred shoulders and pushed. Caught off guard by my sudden shift in demeanor, Callum allowed himself to be guided backward until he was sitting firmly on the edge of the ruined oak table, his long, muscular legs spread wide.
"Chrissie..." he started, his brow furrowing in confusion as his steel-gray eyes tracked my movements.
"Quiet," I commanded, my voice devoid of the soft, healing cadence I had used my entire life. It was a sharp, unwavering tone of absolute authority.
I dropped to my knees betw
