Evelyn Grant was so sleepy she could barely open her eyes.
Her flushed little face was a mask of exhaustion. She was sprawled across the pillow, utterly spent. Her smooth, exposed back was strewn with love bites, blooming like alluring blossoms on her fair skin.
Preston Keaton's gaze darkened. He bent down and planted a damp kiss behind Evelyn Grant's ear, his deep, husky voice murmuring softly.
"Never mind. Just get some sleep."
He stood up and pulled the comforter up, covering the marks and leaving only the top of her fluffy head visible.
Preston Keaton gazed down at her for a moment, stroked her head, then turned and walked out.
Downstairs, Lucas Miller greeted him, saying warmly, "Sir, breakfast is ready."
Preston Keaton nodded. "Have Wyatt Walsh come see me."
