Kira scrambled into the bedroom, stumbling towards the bed, hugging herself as if to hide the flush still burning across her skin. She sat on the edge of the bed, her damp hair clinging to the silk of her robe. She looked at her hands that wouldn't stop shaking. Her pulse hadn't slowed; if anything, it raced harder now that she was alone with the echo of his touch. The place between her thighs still throbbed faintly, slick and sensitive from his fingers, and every small shift of her hips sent a fresh ripple of awareness through her.
She had demanded fidelity, she had stood her ground in the bathroom, but now the reality of the "intercourse meeting" was settling in her gut like lead. He wasn't just a King or a contract partner anymore; he was a man who knew exactly how to make her sob with a single finger.
