Seraphine stiffened momentary, her fingers curled into tight little fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. For a single, suspended heartbeat, she considered the door. Then she walked toward him, each step measured, careful, her silence betraying the tension humming through her slender frame.
Eberhard watched her intensely. His eyes were a storm of hunger and possession, tracking her progress across the room with a predator's focus. Letting her come to him.
Seraphine stopped before him. He pushed himself further back onto the large bed, the motion lazy, absolutely sure of her obedience. He tapped his thighs. Come.
She climbed onto the high bed, the mattress dipping under her weight. She settled herself across his lap, the hard muscle of his thighs a firm perch. Her posture was rigid, a carefully constructed facade of calm.
