The words hung in the air between them, raw with honest desire. Marcus's breath hitched, his body going rigid against the restraints as the implications of her statement settled over him.
"Then take it," he whispered, his voice carrying a note of desperate permission that made her knees weak.
Samantha leaned forward, her lips finding the pulse point at his throat with unerring accuracy. His skin was warm and slightly salty, carrying that distinctive scent that was purely Marcus—danger and desire and something indefinably male that made her head spin with want. She could feel his pulse racing under her tongue, could taste the slight tremor that ran through his system as she explored the sensitive skin.
"Samantha," he groaned, her name falling from his lips like a prayer.
