Valtira.
“I want every inch of you,” Zarek rasped against my ear, voice thick with years of pent-up hunger. “Every curve, every secret place. It’s all burned into me, Valtira. And I need to taste it again, feel it again, remind myself you’re real.”
His hands found my hips, fingers digging in through the heavy fabric of my dress, squeezing hard enough to send sharp jolts racing up my spine.
Every nerve that had gone quiet for so long woke screaming.
Heat bloomed low in my belly, insistent, traitorous.
One hand slid up, gathering my hair and sweeping it aside so his mouth could find the nape of my neck.
Hot, open-mouthed kisses trailed down to my shoulder blade, slow and deliberate, teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver.
Then his fingers hooked the sleeve of my dress and tugged
