His kisses, hot, wild, and utterly consuming, left her breathless. Despite the split on her cheek, she felt intoxicated, drunk not from the alcohol but from the taste of forbidden desire blooming between their lips. The pain didn't matter. Not here. Not now. What mattered were Sylvaris's hands, rough, eager, unrelenting, exploring places she never imagined would be touched tonight.
His fingers slid beneath her dress like sin wrapped in warmth. They were hot, trailing up her thighs with a teasing, maddening slowness. Her skin responded instantly, soft, pampered, and trembling, not from fear but from the overwhelming lack of resistance. It wasn't shame that made her shiver. It was need. The need for his fingers to go deeper… to reach the parts of her that had been untouched for far too long.
