"Sweetheart…"
Yvonne Finley tried hard to evade, but his hands burned and gripped tightly, trapping her in a narrow space, they floated through ambiguity together in a seamless dance.
"Edward Brown mentioned that you're on IV drip."
He ignored her subtle resistance, bending slightly at the waist, his nose lightly grazing her snow-white swan-like neck, pleasingly persistent.
Mysteriously.
Like a wild beast lying in wait, contemplating where to feast upon a little deer it had captured. Observing and measuring where it is most delectable.
Yvonne's scalp kept tightening and her mind was a bit chaotic, but she still reached out to hold his waist. He was wearing something very thin, an oversized hospital gown, and her hand easily slipped inside through a gap.
Hot...
Hot and solid.
The contours are obvious, with shallow ditches that are both sexy and powerful.
