Falling Hard
“Good.”
Clothes flew, discarded carelessly across the floor. His jacket, shirt, trousers—all gone within moments. His body was carved perfection—broad shoulders, sculpted chest, abs like marble under her fingertips.
Ezekiel’s hands returned to her body, rough and possessive, trailing over every curve, every dip of her skin. He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her taut nipples, making her gasp and arch into him.
“Isla…” he groaned her name like a prayer before capturing her lips again, pressing her against the cool glass of the window.
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