Irresistible Fantasies (A Steamy Collection)
Or is it something else, an invitation to step into his world completely, to become part of whatever dark, glittering circle he moves in?
I dry my hands on a towel, then press my palms against the cool marble, grounding myself. The logical part of me, the part that should be screaming about danger, about the fact that I don’t even know his name, is suspiciously quiet. Instead, all I feel is the thrum of anticipation, the same electric pull I felt when he first touched me in that auction room.
Midnight.
I have hours. Hours to overthink, to second-guess, to talk myself out of this. But I already know I won’t.