For a brief moment, Charles stood completely still, holding his breath as heat surged through his body.
Augustine felt the tension in him and let out a low, teasing scoff. "Pookie, don't you want me?" he whispered, voice thick with seduction.
Charles swallowed hard, his eyes darkening.
He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of Augustine's damp skin, to taste the rain and sweat clinging to his body.
And more than anything, Charles wanted to lose control—to pin Augustine down and make him his.
Ever since the day Charles confessed his love to Augustine, an intense desire had begun to brew deep within him—a raw, aching urge to explore every part of Augustine, to claim him in ways he hadn't dared before.
Just the thought of Augustine, the way he looked, spoke, even breathed, stirred something primal inside Charles—something that refused to be ignored.
Exhaling!
