Blood Roses
The smoke, the fire, the lies—none of it mattered when he looked at her like that.
His fingers brushed her cheek, slow and reverent.
“I tried to stay away from you,” he said.
“But you didn’t.”
Their lips met in a crash of heat and confusion, need and fury. Her hands tangled in his hair. His mouth was urgent, devouring, worshipping. The kiss deepened, wild and consuming, like the fire roaring through the mansion.
He pinned her against the wall, his hands exploring every inch of her with desperate intensity. She gasped as he kissed down her neck, her collarbone, pushing the fabric of her maid’s uniform aside like it offended him. Their breaths mingled in a haze of lust and smoke.
Bab Populer