Winning Her Back
Heat. That was the first sensation. Not the soft warmth of the Parisian suite, but a deep, internal furnace, stoked to a blaze. Ethan’s mouth was on mine, not demanding, but devouring. His hands, calloused and familiar, traced scorching paths down my spine, slipping beneath the thin silk of my nightgown. We weren't in the sterile luxury of the hotel. We were tangled in the sheets of our bed back in the mansion, sunlight dappling through familiar curtains. His skin was hot silk under my palms, the scent of him, spice, cedar, pure Ethan, filling my lungs, intoxicating. A low growl vibrated in his chest as his lips trailed fire down my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive pulse point, sendin
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