REMY’S POV.

“You love him,” I repeated, my voice dripping with disdain, “yet you come on my fingers.”

The scent of her arousal still clung to the air, a sweet, taunting perfume. My gaze dropped to her mouth, that perfect, rosebud mouth that had haunted me for years.

“This naughty mouth of yours needs to be taught a lesson.”

She smiled. God, it was slow, a venomous little curve that was poison to my heart. A smile for me. Not the polite, socialite mask she wore for everyone ...