The bruising intensity of the kiss broke, but the atmospheric pressure in the penthouse didn't drop. It spiked, thickening the air until it felt heavy, charged with a dark, suffocating anticipation.
Ryan didn't let Zara go. He kept one hand firmly anchored on the flare of her hip, his thumb pressing into the bare skin exposed by the parted silk robe. He looked over her head, his pitch-black eyes sweeping the room.
Sophie was leaning against the dining table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest to suppress the visible trembling in her hands. Diana stood perfectly still, her pristine white pantsuit a sharp contrast to the dark, feral hunger burning in her eyes.
Iralis remained near the windows, pushing her glasses up her nose, her analytical mind entirely short-circuited by the sheer, unapologetic dominance rolling off him.
