Soft lips plied magic in the curve of her neck. On instinct, she arched toward them, seeking pleasure. She was rewarded her with a hot hand upon her breast. Fingers sizzled her skin as they caressed her through her smock, teased her nipple into a hard pebble. Something within her shouted warnings to withstand the artful mastery of those hands. Then she felt a mouth to her breast, and she moaned at the moist blade of a tongue upon her. Gasping, Averyl struggled to recall why she should resist this. “Aye, lass,” the voice encouraged. “Feel me.” Drake! She opened her eyes to find his gaze fastened upon her, a hot black in the burgeoning light. Such utter male beauty never ceased to amaze her, nor did the depth of her desire. Swallowing, she fought the ache pulsing in her belly. “This is good and right between us. We need naught else,” he assured, his voice coaxing.
