Chapter 11 Blood Red Dress

• "Say it again," Casian growled, his voice a low, rough vibration against the sensitive skin of her throat.
• His heavy hands gripped her thighs, holding her locked against the edge of the mahogany desk as his hips pressed forward with agonizing, unyielding weight. The cold blue light of the laptop illuminated the scattered papers on the floor, casting long, dramatic shadows across the library.
• Megan gasped, her back arching off the polished wood as his mouth dragged a trail of fire down to her collarbone. Her fingernails dug through the crisp fabric of his white shirt, feeling the rock-hard tension of his back muscles beneath her palms. The scent of his dark sandalwood cologne mixed with the sharp, raw musk of his rising testosterone, completely drugging her hyper-sensitive nose.