◆◆◆ Chapter 4 ◆◆◆
Melinda paced the length of her room like a caged animal, bare feet silent on the plush carpet. The thin silk robe they’d given her clung to her sweat-damp skin, doing nothing to hide how hard her n*****s were, how her thighs kept pressing together in a useless attempt to ease the constant, throbbing ache between them.
She hated him.
She hated herself more.
The door opened without a knock.
George stepped inside, closing it softly behind him. He wore only low-slung black lounge pants that hung dangerously low on his hips, exposing the muscle that disappeared beneath the waistband. His silver hair was slightly tousled, chest bare and sculpted, every inch of him radiating quiet, predatory power.
He didn’t speak at first. He simply crossed to the armchair by the window
