Camilla

I cursed under my breath, thrashing against his grip, but he only tightened his hold on my wrists, pinning them together as if they belonged there, trapped. My silk dress bunched, his hand tugging at it until the thin fabric slipped and my chest met the freezing glass. The cold shot through me, so sharp it forced a moan from my lips I instantly regretted.

“Shut up,” I hissed at myself, clenching my jaw. But the harder I tried to stay composed, the more my body betrayed me. The chill of the glass on my skin, the warmth of his chest against my back, the absolute command in his...