The Emperor (Dark Verse, #3)

by RuNyx

One of his hands gripped her full breast, the other going to her ass in a hold that was nothing short of territorial. In the moonlight, his dark eyes gleamed like uncut obsidian, born of flames, cooled in winds. His masculine scent, that cologne she had loved since she first smelled it, permeated the closed confines of the car. He took over her senses—sight, sound, smell, touch—and she reveled in it, her heart pounding but desire coiling in her belly in known anticipation. This wasn’t like it had been in the beginning. Their desire then had been a wildfire—unknown, unexpected, untamed. No, now it was a kindling, a bonfire in the middle of a snowy desert, melting the frost, warming the bones, lighting the dark. They had been together a hundred times before and they would be together a hundred times more. But their need for each other had evolved—from being lovers learning each other, they had become memories on each other’s skin, every inch of her body knowing every inch of his. Given all that, all the years and touches between them, his hand holding her breast and ass sent heat curling through her spine, so familiar, so delicious, so wanted. Amara thrived in being desired by this man; she thrived even more in desiring him. For a long time after her assault, she had felt both undesirable and undesiring, not sure if she would ever find any sexual pleasure in her life, or get rid of the shame if she did. Dante had introduced her to the spark of heat as a boy and taught her to...