Thirty Two

The hunt had never tasted sweeter. Never contained the shaky thrill of victory laced with the edges of defeat. Thrilling in the sheer need it invoked.

No longer a need to win a bet or bring a woman to her knees for entertainment. There was a much fiercer feeling behind the absolute want to have her.

Dinner continued on. Conversation flowing as freely as the wine. And Sebastian continued to strip each layer further from her, rose turning to scarlet, breasts rising from nervous lurch to deep heave.

He swirled his brandy and smiled darkly. Little did she realize that two weeks of torment stretched before her. He‟d see that hidden smile on her face again soon, whether he had to use everything in his arsenal to bring it forth or not.

He wanted it—that little thrill, that shock, that warm trickle that made him feel nervous and alive.