...of her appeared to be all over the place, an unpretentious update that kept him tense.
He didn't need an update. He needed her. All that in her rooms was female. Not the flouncy sort, yet entirely the smooth. Elusive cushions he had no clue she'd made herself were thrown masterfully over the sofa. A tall, thin jar held tall, thin blossoms with striking red heads.
There was a painting on the mass of a mermaid, wild wet hair of glimmering dark pouring down her back and exposed bosoms as she surfaced in a victorious curve of body from a blue ocean.
It was dazzling, erotic and some way or another blameless.
It was just and rather perfectly delivered. Anybody seeing it would take note of the likeness, he made certain, looking like the face, the full bend of lips. He pondered when Darcy h
