The city had surrendered to the deep hush past midnight. Downtown Paradise's lights had dimmed to scattered embers far below, and the vast windows of the penthouse reflected only the single amber lamp burning in the corner—a low, golden flame that licked across the room like a conspirator's tongue.
And across her.
Sierra lay on her stomach, half-dreaming, one arm curled beneath the pillow, the other flung out as though reaching for something she'd already found. The white duvet had long since been kicked aside—perhaps by him, greedy to keep her bare—and now it tangled low around her calves, leaving the rest of her gloriously,sinfully exposed.
Phei propped himself on one elbow and let his gaze feast.
She was a study in shadowed temptation: honeyed skin glowing in the lamplight, every curve and hollow painted with liquid gold and deep velvet shadow.
