Gael stood by the window, his silhouette dark against the afternoon light, his breath coming in heavy, jagged hitches. His eyes were dark—not the clear blue she liked, but a stormy, predatory obsidian.Zoriana’s face went scarlet. In all her life, she had never felt this exposed, this utterly humiliated.“What are you doing here?” she gasped, her voice cracking. She snapped her thighs shut, scrambling into a sitting position while fumbling to hide the toy behind her back.“My love, you weren't answering. I called, and I messaged... I couldn't stay away,” Gael said, his voice a low, husky rumble as he moved toward the bed.In the dim light, with her head spinning from the wine, his silhouette looked agonizingly like Tristan’s. Gael was a few inches shorter, his shoulders not quite as broad, but the family resemblance was a ghost haunting the room. Zoriana blinked, trying to shake the hallucination, but through her hooded, wine-soaked gaze, the mesm
Read more