Bryson regarded Declan with a look akin to someone observing a dying ant, a cold and unforgiving gaze.
“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured with a steely tone.
His voice made Declan’s blood run cold.
“Bryson…”
Hannah’s voice, barely audible, escaped her lips as she lay unconscious in Bryson’s arms.
Hannah’s entire being felt ablaze as she pressed against the man’s suit jacket, her senses adrift in a haze of desire. She seemed almost unconscious under the effect of the drug.
Bryson, though, was resolute and stiff. Disregarding the scoundrel crumpled on the floor, he pivoted, gathering Hannah into his arms with unwavering determination and carried her out of the room.
Having safely transported her to his quarters, Bryson found himself perspiring, his body tense with anticipation as the night’s dark veil descended upon them.
In the dimly lit room, the man’s expression remained elusive as he shut the door behind him. As he turned back, his gaze locked onto Hannah, who was pulling roughly at a pearl necklace around her neck.
One by one, pearls tumbled from the broken necklace, their descent accompanied by the melodious, crystalline notes of their fall.
“Bryson…”
Hannah’s voice, though typically rational and composed, now carried an alluring softness that was entirely foreign.
Standing a distance from her, Bryson maintained a composed demeanor, his voice chilly.
He gazed at the woman before him and posed the question.
“Hannah, who am I?”
Who was he?
Hannah’s mind, so occupied by her lust, struggled to comprehend the words.
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She tilted her head and staggered limply two steps forward to get closer to Bryson. She stood on her tiptoes and breathed in his scent.
Throwing caution to the wind, her lips fell on the man’s neck in a warm ki*s. The heat of her breath curled at the nape of his neck.
Hannah kept ki*sing his neck with vigor.
“Bryson…”
The man took Hannah’s neck firmly in his large hand and swiftly turned her around so she was pressed flush against the door.
A playful voice rang quietly in Hannah’s ears. Bryson slid his fingers under her dress and held her tightly by the waist.
“No,” said the voice, “I’m Sewell.”