Keeley held her breath until she was light-headed and near to fainting. When she let it out, it came out in a rush that unsteadied her.

　　Before her stood a man—a warrior—that had no equal. He was honed by the fires of battle. Muscled. Scarred. Lean. No spare flesh on any part of his body.

　　He towered over her, his strength a tangible thing in the small space of the chamber. He could so easily hurt her, and yet she trusted him fully. His gentleness soothed her and made her ache with longing.

　　But looking at his groin with his … appendage … jutting upward like a battle

　　flag, she...