“I know which way I’d be leaning, Strudel,” Cassandra said as she wandered into the kitchen and made herself tea.
She looked out over the lawn as she drank it, pretending that her mind was not alive with images of Samael naked in the shower.
Water cascading down the strong column of his spine. Bouncing off his firm, muscular ass. Sleeking down his flat belly.
She tipped the dregs of her tea down the drain. There was no point getting herself all worked up over something that wouldn’t happen again. Because that was what the little conversation in the living room had been about—Samael drawing a line under what had happened politely but firmly, and her agreeing.
Her newly reawakened libido might regret the decision, but her head and heart didn’t. Who in their right mind set themselves up
