EMBER GREENE

The faint scent of cedar from his body mixed with his warmth, making Emerald's cheeks flush. Alaric leaned closer, reducing the space between them even more as he reached for other condiments.

With two buttons undone, Emerald could clearly see his collarbone, the same one she'd tasted in the quiet of night. When her tongue had brushed across it, she remembered the feel—firm, with the slight saltiness of sweat.

Further down, his chest muscles looked strong, muscles she'd touched countless times, always just the right firmness under her fingers. Emerald felt a hunger stirring within. The man before her seemed like a delicacy, an irresistible meal exuding a tempting aroma, making her restless. She wanted to savor him, piece by piece.

In that moment, as Alaric moved closer, Emerald's tongue lightly flicked across his collarbone. Soft, warm, and wet. It was as though a fire ignited in Alaric's chest. He hadn't expected the usually reserved Emerald to act so boldly.