We were both panting, our chests rising and falling in unison, tangled in sweat and sheets and a haze of pleasure. The room was dimly lit by the soft morning light slipping between the curtains, painting Klaus’s skin in warm golden streaks. I faced away from him, my back pressed to his chest, while his arms wrapped possessively around my waist. His lips were grazing the sensitive skin of my nape, then moving toward my ear, his breath fanning gently as he whispered things only I was meant to hear.
I shivered—part from the lingering afterglow, part from the dangerous way he kept tracing his fingers over my hips, coaxing, tempting. He wasn’t satisfied with just one or two rounds. Of course not. Klaus never was. He wanted all of me—always.
And it drove me mad.
This was exactly why I hadn’t
