The dim candlelight, their purple flames flickering softly, bathed the room in a luscious glow.
Frida drew in a sharp breath, her gaze locked on him. "Well, will you do me the honor of stripping for me, Frida?" His voice carried a teasing edge, but it was his eyes, thick with desire, that made her pulse quicken.
Frida smirked. "That's very bold of you, Laziel..." His tone was a challenge.
Frida placed her hands on her hips, her smirk growing. "And you like bold, don't you?" Slowly, she began unbuttoning her shirt, savoring the way his gaze burned with need—pure, unfiltered hunger. For her.
It made her feel powerful, despite the bruises on her body. Laziel had this way of making her feel beautiful, even when she felt broken.
The shirt slid to the floor, pooling at her feet. His eyes devoured her, his tongue running slowly over his lips before he swallowed hard. "Lord, you are divine," he rasped.
