DENISE

“By all means, please do,” I moaned, legs circling around his firm waist to lock him in place. “Ruin me, Vladimir.”

The room was heavy, weighted with the scent of our arousal, woodsmoke, and the sharp, metallic tang of adrenaline.

He began to move inside me, his silhouette falling over me as the moonlight streamed in through the window.

Vladimir was hot. Sinfully hot.

I watched as the thick, corded muscle of his chest rippled with his movement. His smooth skin was mapped out with a scary tattoo in dark, intricate ink. I saw the head of a raven on his chest, its wings stretching toward his collarbone, and...