Her breath caught audibly. “Wow.”
I moved behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and murmured in her ear, “No hiding here.”
Her eyes met mine in the mirror, wide and shimmering. “I wasn’t planning to.”
I picked up the champagne, popped the cork with a soft pop, and poured it into a crystal flute.
“Drink,” I said, handing it to her. “You’ll need it.”
She took the glass, fingers brushing mine, and studied her reflection. Her lips parted as she saw us together—my hands already possessive on her waist, Rafael lounging against the wall, watching her with heat in his eyes, watching us, like he had all the time in the world.
“I don’t know what’s more dangerous,” she said, lifting the glass to her mouth. “The room, or the two of you.”
“We don’t bite,” Rafael said, moving closer to us
