I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning when he finally weighed my right breast, his palm filled with the softness of an artist, even while it held his own form of strange darkness, of dangerous enticement. "This is wrong," I whispered.

"What is?" His voice was low in my ear, with a faint touch of devilish amusement, while I wondered what was real and what wasn't. I stood in two worlds for a strange second, where I couldn't remember my name, my character. Dorian's little sister, Lucy, had always felt like an incomplete person, someone too shy when she loved acting, someone too insecure when everyone thought...