The sun had already set when Athos came for me. I was sitting in front of the fireplace, a half-forgotten glass of wine in my hands, my thoughts still hazy from the morning session. My muscles still remembered the pleasure, as if my body didn't want to forget what his voice had done to me.

He didn't knock. He just entered.

He was dressed in black. A linen shirt open at the chest, trousers that outlined his strong thighs. As always, firm, silent, in absolute control of his own ...