He knelt over her, still in his waistcoat and that extravagantly billowing shirt, his muscles taut, his every nerve seemingly on edge.
Dangerous.
Was this what he was like?
He owned this place. He was the master of this kingdom.
Underneath it all, the bare man
Was this what he was when he made love to her in the middle of the day in a laundry house where they could be heard by mids?
No laughing royal, but a man compelled by his own most primitive urges?
Was he like this with other women?
She watched, fascinated and aroused, as he reached out his lace-draped fingers and flicked the cloth away from her, unwrapping her like a cocooned butterfly.
"Goddess," he said, "Goddess."
