Alvaro's eyes remained on Rozarria's face. He was merely testing her, wanting to know what kind of a woman she was. He didn't think she was this kind. The type that treated men as nothing but bed warmers.
Was he offended? Certainly not.
His muscles quivered while a new kind of pleasure raked his veins. This was undoubtedly a dangerous game. If he lost, his position in her mind would regress, possibly even fall out from her list. But if he won, he would have her allegiance and much more.
The rules, the first to come –– lose.
Controlling his quivering muscles, his hand stretched, caressing the smooth skin of her collarbone.
Ah . . . like he thought . . . her skin is cold.
Feeling the smoothness and iciness of her flesh, his hand moved to her cleavage that was almost sleeping from the confines of her lingerie.
Still, he didn't stop, and neither did she made any effort to stop him.
