Daphne responded eagerly, fervently, desperately, her lips dancing with that of Atticus's as her arms moved to pull him close.
The feeling of her palms gliding across his broad chest before landing on the back of his neck only egged Atticus further on, and he felt his cock twitch.
Just one touch from her set all of his skin alight, dancing and soaring as though meteors had taken over the night sky, a trail blazing behind it that set his night sky bright and hot. Every cell in his body bubbled with desire, and the more their lips engaged in a battle of love, the more Atticus felt the feverish need to draw her close.
Even like this, skin to skin, lips pressed against each other, wasn't enough for him. He needed more. Every breath he breathed seemed to have been filled with Daphne's aroma― not even the flower petals scattered in the bathwater could mask the sweet vanilla fragrance that was wafting off her body.
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife