Genevieve blinked, the spell breaking as reality rushed back in. She pulled away from Zaeryn fully, though her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was still uneven. She shot Ingrid a look that was half annoyance, half lingering arousal, before settling back slightly on the cushion, needing a moment to recompose herself.
Ingrid stepped forward, her earlier territorial look completely gone, replaced by a smile that was all undisguised anticipation. "My turn," she declared, her voice a sultry purr.
Zaeryn, still riding the high from the last kiss, felt his own eagerness surge. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to this. He didn't just wait for her; he acted, reaching out and grabbing her hand, giving it a firm, undeniable tug. Ingrid didn't stumble.
