BACKSEAT OF THE LIMOUSINE AFTER THE GALA PT 2
Amara sat close to Roman on the long leather seat, her hand still resting on his thick thigh. The tension between them had grown so heavy it felt difficult to breathe.
She leaned in slowly, her perfume wrapping around him. Her full breasts pressed lightly against his arm through the thin silk of her gown.
“I’ve noticed the way you watch me at every event,” she whispered, lips brushing his ear. “Your eyes stay on me longer than they should. Even when you’re supposed to be scanning the room for threats.”
Roman’s stoic expression finally cracked. His large, dark hand moved over hers on his thigh and squeezed gently. His palm was warm and rough, completely covering her smaller hand.
“You make it hard not to look,” he said, voice low and deep.
