"You bastard—" she breathed, but there was no real venom in it. Just desperation. Just hunger.
Then her gaze locked onto mine.
And froze.
Her dark, kohl-lined eyes widened, her plump lower lip trembling as recognition slammed into her. For a heartbeat, she just stared, her chest heaving, her fingers still clenched in the ruined fabric of her dress.
Then, her hand dropped.
A subtle flick of her wrist, her fingers curling in a gesture so small it was almost imperceptible.
The bodyguards stopped dead.
The ruined emerald silk clung to her like a second skin, the dark coffee stains mapping the swell of her breasts, the tight peaks of her nipples pressing against the damp fabric. Her kohl-lined eyes—wide, dark, glittering with something between shock and hunger—locked onto mine as her plump lower lip trembled.
"Oh my God—" Her voice was breathy, unsteady, her fingers still clutching the soaked dress to her chest. "You—you complete—!"
