Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire
He winks, leaving me alone with Zane, the door locking behind him.
Smart man.
He knows the plot's tugging at me.
I approach, heart racing, this body's instincts screaming to claim him. Zane glares, amber eyes fierce, his lithe frame tense.
"Cillian Veyne," he spits, voice gravelly and defiant. "Release me, or you'll regret it." But there's a flicker, attraction, buried under pride.
The novel's pull is heavy on us both; I feel it, an invisible force urging me closer, my cock hardening painfully.
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