Page 47 of Bound By Crimson

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When he pulled her upright again, their eyes locked.

She had never felt so bare.

So seen.

The friction of velvet and lace against her thighs.

The scent of roses and heat.

The echo of candlelight across mirrored walls—

It was too much.

But she didn’t want it to stop.

He spun her once—twice—caught her mid-twirl, held her still, lips an inch from hers.

Her hands clutched his shoulders, the only anchor she had left.

She was breathless.

She was burning.

She clung to him, trembling.

And then—his hand slid around her waist, pulling her tighter.

Without a word—he lifted her.

She gasped, arms tightening around his shoulders as he carried her across the room.

He placed her on the edge of a dark wooden dresser, cool against her thighs.

A mirror hung above it, catching her reflection—wide-eyed, wrecked.

He knelt.

Just like that.

Dropped to his knees like a man in worship.

His hands ran up her thighs—slow, reverent—pushing the fabric of her dress higher.

When he reached the lace at her hips, he paused—

Looked up into her eyes—

And slowly, deliberately, slid her panties down her legs.

She couldn’t breathe.

The cool air kissed her bare skin.

But it was his gaze that set her ablaze.

He placed her foot on his shoulder, widening her just enough, hands gripping her like she was the only thing tethering him to this world.

He didn’t speak.

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