Vivienne sat in the driver's seat of her Mercedes, hands gripping the steering wheel, and exhaled slowly.
Her body was still burning.
Every nerve ending felt raw, oversensitive, like she'd been stripped down to something fundamental and exposed. Her lips were swollen. Her skin flushed. The ghost of his touch lingered everywhere... his hands on her waist, his mouth on her neck, the hard length of him pressed against her.
God.
She'd nearly lost it.
Nearly abandoned every calculated plan, every carefully constructed scenario, and begged him to take her right there on that terrace.
The urge had been overwhelming... primal in a way she hadn't experienced in years. Her body had screamed for it, demanded it, and it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed to pull away instead of pulling him closer.
If she'd stayed another minute...
If he'd pushed just a little harder...
She would have given in.
Completely.
And that terrified her almost as much as it thrilled her.
