"I want you to fuck me senseless in this trial room."
"Freya," Kael murmured, his voice a low growl, rough with the effort of restraint. His fingers tightened around the curtain, knuckles whitening as he fought the tide of desire her words had unleashed.
The request was a spark in a powder keg, igniting every nerve in his body.
His cock strained against the denim of his jeans, a relentless ache, but the reality of their surroundings—a public store, voices drifting from the next stall—held him back like a leash.
"No," he said, the word sharp, though his hazel eyes betrayed him, drinking in the sight of her: the crimson lace, the arch of her spine, the defiant tilt of her chin. "This is a public place. We can't."
Freya's lips curved beneath the mask, a wicked smile that sent a shiver down Kael's spine even though he couldn't see it, her eyes told it all.
She stepped closer, hips swaying with a rhythm that was both taunt and invitation.
