They took their lovemaking to the bathroom, where Alaric worshipped her body in so many ways Violet could no longer walk. By the time he was done with her, every inch of her ached, a delicious soreness that made her breath hitch with every tiny movement.
She was so sore it hurt.
Alaric, thoroughly pleased with himself, scooped her up in his arms like a princess and carried her back to the room, his grin full of dark satisfaction.
They were not alone in the room. Servants were bustling around, and Violet had no idea if they had been standing outside waiting for them to finish. Still, the evidence was clear: the sheets were changed, the bed neatly arranged—well, until Alaric tossed her onto it.
"Alaric…!" Violet squealed, half laughing, half protesting as she tried to scramble away. But he was already pinning her down, his weight caging her in.
