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Author’s POV
The air was thick with the scent of leather, his cologne, and something darker—something primal that clung to Nicholas Volkov like a second skin.
Serene laid sprawled across the desk, her body a canvas of chaos and surrender.
Her dark hair fanned out in disheveled waves, strands clinging to her sweat-dampened forehead. Her eyes, glossy with unshed tears and raw desire, shimmered in the dim light, wide and vulnerable.
Her cheeks burned a feverish pink, the flush spreading down her neck, and her lips—red, swollen, and parted—trembled with each ragged breath.
She was only in her soft cream sweater, the fabric bunched up around her waist, leaving her lower half exposed to the cool air.
Her panties were long gone, discarded somewhere in the haze of Nicholas’s relentl
