Victor''s hand moved slowly, caressing her with deliberate tenderness.


    Isadora''s cheeks flushed a deep red in an instant.


    "You haven''t even showered yet!" she blurted out, flustered.


    Victor dipped his head and pressed a yful bite to her slender neck. "Are you saying I smell bad?"


    Isadora bit her lip, trying desperately not to cry out.


    The next second, the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them: "I don''t like the way you smell right now."


    Victor looked down at her, the corners of his lips quirking up in amusement, teasingughter glinting in his eyes.


    Under that gaze, Isadora''s face burned even hotter, so red she felt like she mightbust. Why on earth had she brought up his scent again? There was no denying it now—she really was the jealous type.


    Without warning, Victor''s hand slid boldly over her curves. "Want to shower together?"


    Isadora''s breath caught, her whole body trembling with anticipation and nerves.


    "N-no!" she protested, barely above a whisper.


    Victor''s eyes softened, warm and deep like moonlight shimmering over ake, his voice low and husky,ced with temptation. "If you don''t like it, Isadora, you''ll just have to leave your mark on me instead."


    He didn''t give her a chance to argue. Victor scooped her up from the bed and, withzy confidence, carried her straight into the bathroom.


    Inside, the shower was already running, sending a cascade of hot water down over both of them.


    Victor didn''t let her go for a second.


    Isadora''s delicate back was pressed against the cool tiles, the contrast of heat and chill making her shiver-and then melt. In that swirl of sensations, she found herself swept up in a rush of pleasure, her senses heightening as their bodies tangled together beneath the spray. With every breath and every touch, they closed the distance between them, until there was nothing left but warmth and the beating of their hearts.


    At some point, the lingering scent on Victor''s skin was gone, washed away by the water and reced by something new-something that belonged to both of them.


    By the time they emerged, nearly three hours had slipped by.


    Isadora''s fair skin was marked everywhere by Victor''s passionate touch, the evidence impossible to miss. Internally, she cursed him-beast, animal, absolute


    menace.


    Victor, looking satisfyingly content, wrapped her in a towel and patiently dried her soft, damp hair with a blow dryer. Her dark hair tumbled like silk through his fingers, twisting and fluttering as he worked. He watched her the whole time, eyes gentle and brimming with emotion, unable—and unwilling to hide the depth of his feelings. His gaze was like the tide, overwhelming, inescapable.


    "You bit me just as hard as I bit you, you know," he said, a teasing note in his voice.


    Isadora nced up at the red marks scattered along his neck, then quickly looked away, refusing to admit anything.


    "I did not!" she protested. "Those weren''t me."


    "Oh?" Victor''s voice was all wicked amusement. "So I suppose the dog did it, then?"


    Isadora''s wide, dark eyes red at him, shining wetly with indignation. When she was mad, her eyes seemed even bigger and more innocent, a hint of youthful charm peeking through her usual poise.


    Victor''s eyes darkened again, a flicker of mischief passing through them.


    "I meant Pudding," he said, referring to their golden retriever.


    As if on cue, Pudding, who had been waiting forlornly at the door, barked a couple of times.


    Isadora finally remembered their poor dog, left outside all this time. She nudged Victor with her foot. "Let Pudding in, will you?"


    Victor''s gaze trailedzily over her, from head to toe, lingering in a way that made her skin prickle. "You sure you want him in here right now?"


    Isadora was wrapped in a fluffy white towel that barely covered her thighs, while Victor wore nothing more than a loosely tied bathrobe, his chest and muscles on full disy. The air was thick with lingering heat, their skin still damp.


    Even though Pudding was just a dog, it still felt a little awkward.


    Isadora, thoroughly exhausted from Victor''s attentions, didn''t have the strength to argue. She pointed toward the bedroom. "Then just grab my nightgown for me."


    Victor couldn''t help but smile at hernguid, half-awake state. "As you wish, Your Highness."


    He fetched a soft, pale pink slip dress from the wardrobe and held it out to her. Isadora reached for it, but before she could grab it, Victor pulled it back out of reach, a teasing glint in his eye. "Let me help you change."


    "No way!" she shot back, scandalized. If he helped, what was the point of wearing anything at all?


    But Victor, ever the rogue, made quick work of her towel, whisking it away and dropping it to the floor.


    Isadora stared at him,pletely flustered. Surely he wasn''t serious-was he?!


    In her panic, she couldn''t decide whether to cover her chest or her thighs.


    Not that Victor gave her the chance he was already on her again, relentless as


    ever.