Amelia’s POV
His breath was hot against my neck, his lips trailing a path that made my knees weak. My hands trembled as I clutched the robe tighter, but it was useless—he had already slipped it off, and now I stood there, vulnerable, trembling, and unable to form a single coherent thought.
“You walk around dressed like that, moaning my name in your sleep,” he whispered, dragging his fingers slowly across my inner thigh. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I didn’t mean to—” I breathed, eyes fluttering shut as my body betrayed every logical thought in my head.
His mouth found the hollow of my throat, kissing, tasting, claiming. “You belong to me, little wolf. I don’t care what anyone says… not even your husband.”
My heart pounded in my chest, shame and desire clashing like fire and ice
