Nicholas’s mouth never left hers as he lowered her onto the bed, his weight settling over her, anchoring her while setting every nerve alight. The sheets were cool against her back, but everywhere he touched, everywhere his body pressed, burned hotter than fire—his chest solid against her breasts, his hands roaming with a hunger that barely kept to the edges of restraint.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, desperate for more of him. With a low, frustrated growl, she shoved at it, and Nicholas broke the kiss only long enough to tear the shirt over his head.
Clara’s breath caught. The sight of him knocked the air from her lungs. He was carved, powerful, skin taut over muscle that flexed with every movement. Her hand moved of its own accord, tracing the ridges of his
