Katherine let the glance linger until Cassandra noticed, then focused on Martin again. She found a steady rhythm, her upper body rocking between his knees while his hips answered beneath her. The room had grown quiet enough for every wet movement to carry through the open living space, and Cassandra listened to each one.
She followed the red hair sweeping over Martin's lap and the tension gathering beneath his shirt whenever Katherine took him deeper. His eyes had fallen half closed, and his head rested against the sofa. For the moment, he seemed aware of no one but Katherine.
People rarely forgot Cassandra Selfmore. Executives rehearsed before entering her office, politicians measured every word around her, and strangers who had never met her still argued about decisions she had made years ago. She had built a life in which her time was scarce and everyone else's interest came automatically, yet Martin no longer seemed capable of sparing her a glance.
