Ethan watched the woman intently.
Bright red eyes and a mature, deadly seductive face.
Her full, blood-red lips were curved into a sensual smile, and her cheeks were flushed—a soft pink that stood out against her pale face.
Her skin was as white as milk. Paler than any woman Ethan had ever seen in his life, like freshly fallen snow.
The aristocratic plume that had covered her cleavage earlier had vanished without a trace, fully exposing the wide neckline and the deep valley between those fat, perfect tits.
A black corset hugged her waist tightly, and the red dress flowed gently down over her wide hips and shapely thighs, accentuating every curve along the way.
Her small, delicate feet were already bare. Her high heels rested neatly at the corner of the sofa, just below her.
With long, elegant fingers, she set the parasol down next to her heels, in no hurry at all. Then she glided toward Ethan and draped one leg over his hips.
