Bramwell was right. He’d ruined me. Destroyed me from the inside out, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d ever feel something so raw and thrilling and forbidden again. I threw the pillow to the side and dared to lift my head, watching him devour me like a death row meal. The slurping sounds and moans and growls he made were lewd and filthy, and spoke of a man who fervently enjoyed the task.
