"Good morning, Your Ladyship."
Chief Stille, wearing nothing but his underwear, slips behind the Baroness and presses a slow kiss to her bare shoulder. His mouth trails upward, deliberate and possessive — shoulder, neck, cheek, temple — until he gently turns her face toward him.
Then he kisses her mouth.
Deep. Hungry. Like a man who thinks he owns her.
One hand slides under her robe. The other pulls it open without hesitation. The silk falls from her shoulders, pooling at her waist and exposing thin lingerie that leaves very little to imagination.
The Baroness returns the kiss with the same heat, fingers curling against his skin.
His hand cups her breast, thumb brushing her nipple through the lace. She exhales a soft, content sigh — the kind that tells him he still has her hooked.
This is why she keeps coming back to Arvion.
To Harrison Stille.
He knows how to please her.
Pun absolutely intended.
