Chapter 207

“Just one,” I say, but when I bend down to give Windsor a kiss, he pulls me into his arms until I’m lying on top of him.

“Maybe two or three. I’m jealous of Creed you know, and can be quite the right proper asshole when I’m jealous.”

“You didn’t seem jealous,” I whisper, and something in Windsor’s face hardens. He slides his fingers into my freshly cut and dyed hair and pulls my head toward his.

“I was.”

Our kiss is slow and sensual, and tastes like apple cider. It’s one of those kisses that isn’t easy to forget, one that burns a brand into the memory that lasts a lifetime.

Before I know it, he’s got his hands under my shirt, massaging my bare back, and I’ve got his buttons undone, my palms sliding across the smooth, hard planes of his chest. We kiss well-past the midnight chime of the clock that sits on the mantle, and into the early blush of a winter dawn.

My body is on fire, throbbing, and desperate for another taste of what I had at the hotel.