Waking up beside Lazarus, the memory of last night's passion still lingering on my skin, I feel a primal urge stir within me. I glance at him, his chest rising and falling with each deep, unconscious breath, the sheets tangled around his waist. His peaceful expression does little to quell the tempest of desire raging inside me.
With a sly smile, I decide not to wake him the usual way. Instead, I slide my body closer, tracing my fingers over the hard contours of his abs, down to where his morning arousal is unmistakable. I wrap my hand around him, gently at first, then with more purpose, feeling him harden further under my touch. His breath catches, a low groan escaping him as his eyes flicker open to meet mine.
"Good morning, my vixen," he rasps, his voice thick with sleep and burgeoning
