"Someone might come," Angela whispered as Zayden reclined beside her on the bed.
This was wrong—utterly and damnedly wrong—but it seemed neither of them cared. They lay naked, facing each other, their skin aglow in the flickering candlelight.
Angela had never thought herself the kind of woman to be bold before a man, but this was no ordinary man. It was Zayden—her bodyguard, her confidant, the man she loved. There was no telling what more she could do with him.
"The door is locked." His hair tumbled across the bed and fell over his shoulders like a dark cascade. "Your post-pleasure glow is quite beautiful, though we didn't actually have sex."
