Chapter Twelve
SarahLate morning light crept across the carpet. The air warmed. The bedsheet drifted away, exposing her legs. Vekele’s arm resting over her waist kept the sheet from slipping to the floor. Sleep had been elusive, partly due to the new bed but mostly due to the person next to her.
Vekele was fire or ice. No middle ground. Once he removed the mask of the cold, aloof prince, he was a man of burning passion. They spent the night exploring, teasing, and tasting, and finally fell into something resembling sleep just as the sky turned pearly gray with the promise of dawn.
“So you are not a dream after all,” he murmured, burying his face in the tangle of his mate’s hair. His hard—how?— c***s ground against her bottom.
“There is no way you’re ready again,” she said. “What kind o
