Pale, silvery morning light filtered through the heavy velvet drapes of the master suite, painting the high plaster ceilings in soft shades of pearl gray. Camille Laurent slowly opened her eyes, wincing slightly as she shifted against the silk sheets. A dull, sweet ache pulsed between her thighs—a vivid, physical reminder of the hours Damian had spent possessing her on the ancestral four-poster bed. She turned her head on the…
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