A shiver ran down Liliette’s spine, her shoulders flinching—an involuntary reaction that only seemed to amuse him more. She couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of competition. Shooting him a sidelong glare, she resumed unbuttoning his shirt, determined to appear unfazed.
“Don’t laugh,” she said.
“There’s an awful lot you don’t want me to do,” he replied.
“I never asked you to speak,” she retorted, using a stern tone that sounded unfamiliar coming from her lips.
Vlad clamped his mouth shut. His jaw tightened as he fought to suppress a smirk, but the corner of his lips curled up.
His thick manhood was still throbbing against his muscular abdomen, its tip positioned on top of the lower button of his shirt. The sight of it, with veins bulging on the shaft and a hint of precum staining the garment, was almost too much. The potent, masculine scent and the heat radiating from his body made Liliette’s heart pound in her chest.
