DAPHNE
His mouth finds my shoulder, kissing along the line of it while his hands slide up from my waist. Krue's watching us, watching me, and the heat in his eyes could melt steel.
"The dress," Krue says. "Take it off."
"Which one of us?" Arden asks against my skin.
"Does it matter?"
"Everything matters."
I reach back, trying to find the zipper, but my hands are shaking too badly. Arden catches them, holding them still.
"I've got it," he murmurs.
The zipper slides down slowly, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. Cool air hits my spine, and then Arden's fingers—tracing the line of my back, following the path the zipper made.
Krue's hands find the front of the dress, easing it off my shoulders. The silk pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but the delicate ivory lingerie
