Lady Catalina did not sleep even long after Ambrose had left, her body still hummed as if his touch lingered.
As if his voice still whispered wicked, forbidden things in her ear.
She had splashed cold water on her face, clutched her book like a lifeline, and forced herself to breathe. None of it helped.
Her heart still raced. Her mind still replayed every moment. The heat of his body, the way his fingers had traced her skin, and the deep, dark tease in his voice when he had whispered, "Say my name."
A violent shiver wracked her spine. She could not understand what was happening to her.
Lady Catalina groaned into her hands. This was Ambrose. Prince Ambrose, the reckless, insufferable flirt with a penchant for ruining her composure and he knew it.
He knew what he had done to her and he enjoyed it. Catalina scowled and threw herself into bed, determined to sleep. Determined to forget but she should have known better.
