Page 147 of Wicked Bonds

But Caro had only undergone reformation for less than two decades, while Leela had experienced a century of it.

What if they caught her again? Would they wipe him from her mind? Dismantle his memories of her as well?

How long would it be before they found each other again?

Is my history with her why I’ve never craved monogamy with anyone else?

So many questions. Not enough answers.

But with her ass grinding against his groin, he found himself otherwise distracted by the new experiences they’d just shared in this bed and the fresh memory of taking her from behind mere hours ago.

He’d indulged her in every way imaginable, the limits between them nonexistent.

Because his vixen enjoyed all manner of sex, just as he did. And they both knew how to play in bed for hours or days or weeks.

It was equally possible that his own sexuality had been influenced by his link to Leela—a notion he’d realized somewhere in the middle of the night when Leela had commented on his insatiability.

“Most men can’t keep up with my pace,” she’d confided to him on a pant as he’d taken her ass for the first time. “But you’re actually making me work for it.” She’d moaned after that, then collapsed into the pillows when he’d reached around to fondle her clit and sent her cascading over the edge into oblivion.

She’d clenched so hard around him that he’d followed her into the blissful climax.

Then they’d showered before starting all over again.

Which had led to a nap as the sun was rising in Brazil.

Balthazar owed Luc another check-in call, but he hadn’t been able to stop worshipping his siren. She tasted amazing, and her moans were utterly addictive.

Leela rotated in his arms, the green in her irises having chased away the blue this morning. She pressed her lips to his, engaging him in a lazy kiss as she hooked her leg around his hip.

He indulged her, his hand finding her cheek before gliding back into her silky hair.

Mmm, she resembled ambrosia, all sweet and flavorful and intoxicating.

Her mind hummed in approval, her thoughts filled with a mixture of wonder and contentment.

“I’ve dreamt of this so many times,” she whispered against his mouth. “Waking up in Brazil and our time together never ending.”

“Who says you’re not dreaming now?” he teased softly.

“Maybe I am.” She licked his bottom lip. “Maybe all of this is a dream.”

“A good one, I hope,” he replied, his groin pressing into the slick heat between her thighs. The head of his arousal nudged her flesh without entering her, just enough to taunt and seduce.

She arched into him, her full breasts perfect against the flat planes of his chest. “Every dream with you is a good one, B.”

He smiled. “And how is reality measuring up to the fantasies?”

“Reality is better,” she admitted, her lips finding his once again.

Their embrace turned sensual, a hint of warm emotion underlying every touch. He could absolutely become accustomed to this act of waking up with Leela daily. She fit him so beautifully, her body a divine entity worthy of constant prayer. But it was more than just her physical appearance and her prowess in the bedroom.

It washer.

His sweet Seraphim.

His flirtatious siren.

His witty vixen.