It wasn't immediate.
Marcellus still held my hand as he climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. I watched each of his fluid movements with my heart in my throat, anticipation eating me alive.
He'd kissed the back of my hand repeatedly before letting it go, opening the vial of clear and sticky liquid.
His eyes were on me again, looking down at me with a slightly tilted head as he went back to basically making note of every ridge and dip on my body.
It made me shy again, wishing I could take a peak into the nobleman's head.
Did he think I was too heavily scarred? Too big? Too hairy? Too little or too much? Why was he staring so much?
His attention, something I'd craved whenever it wasn't on me, suddenly felt like flames.
