…eyes sweeping over the well-sculpted shoulders and down to the slender waist, the tight black fabric leaving little to the imagination as to the musculature that lay dormant beneath it…
…The adept way he moved with such grace and poise around the kitchen was more intoxicating than the aroma of the feast he was currently preparing. And God, his voice. The way he absentmindedly rasped out gentle melodies while he worked was irresistible…
…“Jagi, are you listening?”
“No, I’m not.”
“What’s on your mind, baby?”
“You,” came the sultry response, her voice dripping with unbridled lust.
The silence on the other end of the line stretched onwards for several tense moments until he groaned loudly, his own voice now taking on a huskier tone that too reflected his need. “Why do you affect me like this?” he questioned, barely able to hold back the growl threatening to rumble through his chest.
Fingertips ghosting along parted lips, she purred, “I could ask the same of you.”
