James Sinclair
The moment I looked down at Liv, I knew I couldn’t stop.
Not now, not after seeing her like this. She lay sprawled on the bed, her cheeks still flushed, her lips slightly parted, and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The faint sheen of sweat on her skin made her glow in the dim light, and the way her body trembled—it sent a surge of heat through me that was impossible to ignore.
God, she was beautiful. No, she was more than that. She was mine. Again.
My hand trailed down her thigh, and I felt her shudder under my touch. The softness of her skin, the way it seemed to mold perfectly to my hand, made me want to memorize every inch of her. My thumb brushed lightly over her hip, and she whimpered softly, her body reacting to even the smallest of movements.
