His mouth left my neck, leaving the skin feeling cold and exquisitely sensitive. The mark he’d left there throbbed, a tiny beacon of my betrayal. I was panting, my head still thrown back, my body pliant and boneless in his arms. My mind was a chaotic storm of ‘no,’ but my body was a calm sea of ‘yes.’

“This isn’t the place,” Michael murmured, his voice a low growl against my skin. His hands slid from my waist, and he grabbed my wrist, his grip firm and unyielding. “Come with me.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He began to lead me out of the kitchen, pulling me along behind...