"What about you, Helena?"
Alex's voice was a low rumble, vibrating through the cold night air. "Weren't you waiting for me?"
Helena stood frozen, her chest rising and falling rapidly against the silk of her emerald dress. She tried to look down, to hide the raw, desperate hunger in her eyes, but Alex wouldn't allow it.
His thumb brushed against her lower lip... slow, deliberate, claiming.
The touch was electric. Helena shivered, a soft, involuntary sound escaping her throat.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
He slid his hand under her chin, tilting her head back with gentle, irresistible pressure. He forced her to meet his gaze.
Helena looked up, and her breath hitched.
She was staring into the same dark, abyssal eyes that had stripped her bare that night. The same eyes that had watched her unravel on the dining room table, that had seen her beg, scream, and break.
There was no judgment in them. Only possession.
"Sir, I..." she stammered, her voice trembling.
