Silas’ eyes shone like they were lit up by flames. His gaze dropped to her full breasts and as if he’d touched her, Ivy’s nipples peaked against the see-through fabric in response to his stare. When she reached for her skirt, he jerked his chin. “Slowly,” he ordered. “I want you to kill me with it.” She did as he told her, inching the skirt down her round hips millimeter by millimeter. It would have felt ridiculous if she couldn’t see how his chest rose and fell rapidly, and how his fingers clenched the arms of his chair so tight she was surprised he didn’t tear the leather.
