Silas took his time undressing her, peeling away each layer of clothing with deliberate slowness. Every inch of newly exposed skin was kissed, licked, worshipped. By the time Eve was fully naked beneath him, she was trembling with need.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his hands running over her body with possessive reverence. "Every fucking inch of you."
He kissed a path down her throat, teeth grazing her pulse point but never biting. Not yet. Not until Cain said she was ready for his mark. The restraint it took was visible in every rigid line of his body, but he held back.
Instead, he focused on mapping her with his mouth. Her collarbones, the valley between her breasts, the sensitive spot just beneath her ribs that made her squirm. He learned what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her back arch off the bed in wordless supplication.
