Annabel had slipped out of the house hours ago, chasing the kind of heat that made her forget the clock. Now she lay tangled in silk sheets in a hotel room, skin flushed, breath ragged, waiting for Rose’s call while Drake’s mouth worked between her thighs, her clit.

“Arghhh,” she gasped, the sound ripping free before she could cage it.

“Tongue, baby—yes, like that. Faster. Like you’re starving and I’m the last drop of milk on the plate.” Her fingers knotted in his hair, ...