Lance rushes to his bedroom. At the door, a maid informs him that Andrea is sleeping. She is curled up in the duvet, and the bulky fabric disguises the shape of her body. Blonde curly hair spills across the pillow. Her curly eyelashes flicker and tremble. Her fair neck and delicate collar bone peek out from beneath the duvet. Lance feels desire pumping through his blood.
“She used to be like a soulless puppet,” Lance thinks, “But now she‘s found one—God knows where she got it—and she seems determined to challenge, annoy, and humiliate him.”
He wants nothing more than to conquer her. She moans and tosses in her sleep. Her face, buried deep in the pillow, turns toward him. Her cheeks are unusually red and she murmurs something. Lance leans down, and her boiling hot breath blows acros
