Page 156 of The Woman Left Behind

“Good?” he asked.

Oh so fucking good.

I lifted my head. “If you have to ask, I didn’t do it right.”

He smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat.

He was just so beautiful.

So Harry.

“You did it very right, baby,” he whispered.

I dropped my head and kissed him.

Harry returned the kiss as he rolled us to our sides.

He ended it by landing a soft peck on my nose and murmuring, “Be right back.”

I felt the warmth of those words as he got out of bed but pulled the covers out from under me, red rose petals flying then drifting, and he tugged them over me.

I got to watch via candlelight as Harry walked from the room.

His chest? Fabulous.

Thighs? Amazing.

Cock? Sheer perfection.

But his back and ass?

Lord, help me.

I curled my knees up and snuggled into the bed, taking in the light of the multitude of candles I’d lit all around the room. The scent of the petals I’d strewn. And I saw the champagne in the big bowl of ice with the two champagne glasses sitting beside it on Harry’s nightstand. I didn’t have a champagne bucket, but that bowl worked perfectly.

So okay.

The scene I’d set wasn’t original.

So maybe it was a bit goofy.

So it was also totally obvious.

It worked.

Splendidly.

I grinned.

Harry came back, and I gladly took in the show, until he lifted the covers and got in bed beside me.

He gathered me close, tangled us up, but his hands roamed, feeling an impossible mixture of still greedy, affectionate and soothing.

If he could do it, I could do it.

So I did.

“It was Sherise’s idea,” I blurted, throwing my girl right under the bus with this whole seduction scene.

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