Even for a man like Raven, that night became something he could no longer fully restrain himself against.
The moment they entered the hotel room and the door clicked shut behind them, everything afterward became difficult to recall clearly.
All he knew was that somehow—he had already cornered Missy against the door and kissed her.
The limits of his self-control seemed to vanish in an instant.
He could no longer stop himself from touching her.
Tasting her.
Not when Missy stood there in a dress that left the smooth line of her neck and bare shoulders exposed to him.
Not when her parted lips had haunted him through dinner, lingering shamelessly in his thoughts between every quiet exchange.
Not when the sound of the door locking behind them felt like the world itself had finally disappeared.
This was the moment.
The moment a man like Raven Ashcroft finally bent beneath the intoxicating pull of something dangerously close to surrender.
Desire.
