Ambrose’s POV
Intricate patterns of frost melted away under my hands firmly pressed against the window of my third story flat, and I watched them turning to drops and rivulets in silence while he unlaced the corset that bound my waist and breasts. Every now and then a warm finger would tease its way under the laced edge of my chemise, making the nerves under my skin flare with excitement.
My hands began to slip down the window, and he gently but insistently placed them back at shoulder height, all the while nibbling at the thin, flushing skin at the curve where my neck becomes my shoulder. I had been standing here for nearly half an hour in silence upon his command after he had removed my dress, and I could feel the muscles in my arms begin to ache with weariness. But I dare not move, da
