He said gently, "But you might be disappointed."
Evelyn Grant looked up from his embrace, puzzled. "Why?"
Preston Keaton kissed her soft lips. He'd only intended a light peck to lull her to sleep, but the pressure gradually deepened. He began to suck on her lips, tangling his with hers.
His hand on her waist began to slowly caress her, brushing against the faint bruises his fingers had left a few days prior. A dull ache spread through the area, and Evelyn gasped, "It hurts."
The marks he'd left were deep. When she'd showered just now, the love bites and bruises on her body still hadn't faded.
Preston Keaton pressed his nose against hers and murmured, "Let me see."
His cool fingertips slipped under the hem of her pajamas. The room was dark, save for a small, dim yellow lamp by the door. In its faint light, her slender waist, small enough to be encircled by a single hand, came into clear view.
Evelyn's body tensed.
