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I watch him turn and leave the room. I sit back on the bed with the blanket pulled tight around my bare shoulders. I look around: no flowers, no books, no sugar.

It is not him.

It is Dorian.

I wanted it.

I liked it.

I want more.

I run a hand through the sheets, a shiver of shame passes through me.

Did I really ask him to...

I have never even thought of such words in my life, and yet I shouted them as if I craved nothing else.

The rustle of footsteps makes me turn, Dorian re-enters the room, still naked.

“Did you walk around like that?”

He approaches, body proud. “It is my estate.”

“Your servants are there.”

He stops in front of me, standing, while I remain seated.

“I will never allow them to look at you. Do not fear.”

“I was talking about you,” I mutter to myself.

He tilts his head, runs a hand through my hair, and a corner of his mouth curves into a subtle smile.

“Are you concerned for my chastity?”

Pulling my head back, I brush his hand away with a sharp gesture.

“You are not chaste at all, I would say quite the opposite.”

“And what makes you think that?”

My eyes fall to the bed, the rumpled sheets, damp with our recent pleasure.

“Well?”

I remain silent, locking my lips.

“Unless I dreamed it—and I am certain I did not—I am not the only one who displayed a lack of chastity,” he adds in a low voice.

“Do you know how to close that mouth once in a while?”

He leans toward me, face close to my ear.

“Close my mouth around what?” he hums in a tone that burns.

I remain paralyzed for a moment, heart racing and cheeks hot, shocked by his tone and proximity.

“Around something you seemed to enjoy very much.”