"Sweetheart,"
Sinclair's slender fingers cradled the back of Camilla's head, his lips hovering just a breath away from hers.
"Answer me."
His voice was low and rough, a blend of temptation and command, coaxing the response he desired from her.
The heat of his breath against the delicate skin behind her ear sent a shiver down her spine.
Camilla met his gaze, her beautiful eyes half-lidded as she drowned in the unspoken devotion swirling in his dark irises.
She understood exactly what Sinclair wanted—but the words were still caught in her throat.
Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she glanced sideways and spotted the forgotten item Sinclair had casually set aside earlier. A mischievous spark flickered in the depths of her gaze.
"I know what sweetheart ate." Sinclair watched her intently, his obsidian eyes unwavering, waiting for her next words. Under the weight of his scorching stare, Camilla parted her rosy lips.
