Her forehead was glistening with beads of sweat, and delicate droplets dotted her pale cheeks. The water shimmered on her rosy complexion, her face resembling a fruit touched with morning dew.
Matthew Saxon's eyes narrowed slightly, igniting two flickering sparks in the depths of his shadowy gaze.
"Scarlett Yates, are you tempting wrongdoing?" Matthew's hoarse voice carried a hint of helpless laughter, forcing himself to suppress the wicked desire brewing inside, using a handkerchief to wipe her sweat.
Even in her dreams, Scarlett seemed to relish his attention, lifting her chin to make it easier for him to wipe her face—and then her neck as well.
Matthew's hand paused on her neck for a few seconds, a bitter smile tugging at his lips as he muttered through clenched teeth, "You stir up a fire in me and then sleep soundly, leaving me tormented, really makes me want to throttle you, you little imp."
