Morana's Point Of View
My breath hitched.
I felt it, the slow, teasing glide of his fingers against my thigh, tracing lazy patterns, as if he had all the time in the world to unravel me.
And damn it, he was unraveling me. Wherever his fingers touched, my skin burned.
Sparks of fire.
A slow, delicious ache that coiled deep inside me.
I sucked in a breath, fighting against the intoxicating effect of his touch, trying to will myself to push him away.
But I couldn't.
Not when his fingers trailed even higher, ghosting over my skin with sinful precision, sending shivers down my spine.
Not when his dark eyes locked onto mine, filled with a promise I wasn't sure I was ready to understand.
Damn it.
I needed to stop this.
I had to.
But before I could summon the willpower to pull away, his deep, velvety voice cut through the air, low and taunting.
"Do you want me to stop, Little Vixen?"
His words hung between us like a loaded gun.
