Anna Bennett

For her, their romantic interlude atop the staircase had been a glorious, magical, enlightening introduction to pleasure. For him,it had merely been Friday evening.

Indulge me this once, Meg. Her name was a whisper on his lips. Soft. Seductive. Meanwhile his eyes gleamed mischievously, daring her to say yes.

There was no denying it; his wicked words thrilled her. Like a feather slowly brushing over her bare skin, they teased and tantalized, awakening every inch of her body.

The chandelier's teardrop crystals twinkled above them like stars. It was easy to imagine that they were miles away from London, and that only the two of them existed.