“I’m sorry for letting that cloud my judgement of you,” she murmured. Silas kissed the bridge of her nose, memorizing the smattering of freckles there. “You’re forgiven, my little witchling,” he said, letting his voice drop several octaves just to watch her pupils dilate. He didn’t miss the way her hips rocked gently against his leg. Nearly snarled like a hungry animal when her stare raked over his torso, dropping to his aching cock. Maybe he’d need to feed sooner than he thought after all.
