Behind the door to Rhea's room.
Her back was pressed against the door, her crimson hair a tangled mess, her torn tank top riding up to expose the swell of her breasts, her shorts and panties already pooled at her ankles.
Her amber eyes blazed, not with rage now, but with a raw, desperate hunger, her body trembling from the nipple vibrators Freya had left buzzing against her skin.
Kael stood close, his hazel eyes locked on hers, a quiet storm brewing in their depths.
"Fucking touch me," Rhea growled, her voice rough, needy, her hands reaching for him, fingers hooking around his neck.
She pulled him in, her lips crashing against his, a hungry, messy kiss that tasted of salt and want.
Her tongue swept into his mouth, urgent, demanding, as her hips rocked forward, seeking friction against his thigh.
She was soaked—Kael could feel the slick heat of her against his jeans, her arousal a pulse that matched the thud of her heart.
He didn't tease, not now.
