Chapter 21

• Roxanne’s POV
• The heavy oak door of my bedroom clicked shut, and the heavy facade I had been maintaining instantly collapsed. My knees buckled, and I had to catch myself against the edge of the vanity table. My body was still trembling, flushed with the lingering warmth of what had just happened on Joaquin’s desk. Every breath I took carried the scent of him—cedarwood, expensive tobacco, and raw, overwhelming masculinity. Down between my thighs, a sharp, pulsing ache reminded me of the innocence I had just surrendered to the devil himself.
• I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My lips were swollen, my cheeks flushed, and my skin bore the faint friction marks of his stubble. For a terrifying second, my heart tripped with a strange, confusing emotion. It wasn't just fear. It was the terrifying realization that for a few minutes in that study, I hadn't been acting. I had genuinely drowned in his touch.