“Yeah, I won’t let any man into my room.
No one but you,” Cleopatra murmured.
Her voice faltered on the last word, low and trembling, carrying a possessiveness she could not hide. The confession hung in the air, heavy and unrefined, wrapped in a raw, desperate sincerity that she did not soften.
Her gaze drifted to his lips and lingered there.
Calvin slowly wet his lips, the unhurried, almost teasing motion feeling like a silent invitation.
Cleopatra swallowed.
Hard.
Her pulse quickened, wild and uncontrollable, as if her body had betrayed every careful barrier her mind tried to maintain. Something deep inside her burned with an aching, restless hunger that demanded him.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-soft, carrying a faint, dangerous warmth. “Don’t let any man into
