Delicately, he hoisted her skirt upward to her hip. "Hold it for me," he instructed, baring one leg.
Dutifully, Ravina clung onto the fabric of her skirt, ensuring she didn't disrupt his ongoing artwork. This was an intense game of tease — he was exposing her, yet his touch was limited to the stroke of the brush.
Malachi could keenly perceive every subtle change in her. The rhythm of her breathing grew heavier, and the tempo of her heart's beat quickened. Her warmth, accompanied by the faint scent of arousal, wafted up to his nostrils, but he maintained his concentration on the canvas that was her skin. The contrast of the ink on her fair complexion was breathtaking — it ignited a peculiar flame within him.
The thought of her naked, adorned solely with his drawings, stirred a fervent desire in him.
