His hands roamed over my body desperately, awakening sensations I thought were dead. Every caress was like fire against my skin, every brush of his lips along my neck sent shivers down my spine. My treacherous body wanted to give in, to surrender to that primitive desire wrapping around us.
But my mind screamed warnings.
He’s the King. Tomorrow you’ll regret it. Tomorrow he’ll discard you like all the others.
Memories of Ricardo—his false promises, his betrayal—hit me hard. No. I would not be used again. I would not be thrown away like something worthless.
With superhuman effort, I pulled away from him. His red eyes looked at me with confusion and frustrated desire.
“Wait,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I have an idea.”
Without giving him time to respond, I ran to his enor
