Days at the manor were becoming unbearable. A beauty in his arms, one he could see and touch, but not possess.
Pregnant women tend to be drowsy, so after dinner and a bath, Ashley Bowen was sound asleep.
The hazy glow of the orange floor lamp cast an intimate ambiance throughout the room.
Combined with the orange wallpaper, the entire room was bathed in a soft, tangerine light.
Ashley Bowen wore only a flimsy, aqua-blue nightgown, leaving her entire back exposed. Her skin was as smooth and flawless as a newborn's—so fair and delicate it made one want to take a bite.
'He didn't know why. They'd been married for nearly six years, but had only really lived together for one of them.'
'And in that year, he'd never been able to get enough of her body. He could never look his fill.'
'But she was so frustratingly detached. Every time they were intimate, she was always half-resisting, half-complying. She had rarely, if ever, taken the initiative.'
