"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Alex murmured, his deep baritone rumbling with velvet amusement. "Didn't I tell you? It's entirely out of your league."
Naomi was in no condition to reply. The sharp, venomous retort she had planned died in the back of her throat before it could form.
Her lips stayed parted in a stunned, breathless O. She could not pull enough air in to make a syllable, let alone a defense. In the dim amber light her eyes were wide, dilated, pinned to the thing between them and unable to leave it.
It did not look possible.
Under the warm glow of the recessed sconce, the heavy width and brutal length seemed less like flesh than an instrument meant to split whatever was foolish enough to take it.
'How?'
The word ran in frantic loops through her head.
