Tessa stirred beneath the heavy silk sheets, a low ache pulsing between her thighs every time she shifted.

She was sore, deliciously, brutally sore, the kind of ache that reminded her exactly how deep Roman had been, how hard he’d taken her on that cold kitchen counter just hours ago.

Her skin still carried faint bruises from his fingers, his teeth, the edge of the counter. She could still taste him on her tongue, still feel the ghost of his hand clamped over her mouth as he’d growled against her skin.

She slipped from the bed carefully, legs trembling the moment her feet touched the floor. The room was dim,...