And when the governess had left, he would slip out of his own room and peer at her door until her light was extinguished at last, before he returned to bed to stew anew in lust and yearning.
A habit that he’d kept to this day, whenever they happened to be under the same roof.
Her light turned off. He sighed. How long would he keep at this? Soon he would be twenty-seven. Did he still plan to stand in a dark passage in the middle of the night and gaze upon her door when he was thirty-seven? Forty-seven? Ninetyseven?
Mots clés david sherry-thomas tempting-the-bride
His voice, however, was utterly velvety—if an upholstered wrecking ball
could be called velvety. “I won’t need to try, my dear. My touch will burn away his.”
She couldn’t breathe.
“You were always quiet in his bed,” he went on, “but you won’t be in mine. You will scream with pleasure—and you will do it again and again.
Mots clés david sherry-thomas tempting-the-bride
He felt like a pilgrim standing on the shores of Lake Sahara, having walked barefoot over hundreds of miles, yet all the hardships forgotten, filled with only wonder and reverence at the marvel of it all.
Sherry ThomasMots clés david sherry-thomas tempting-the-bride
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