Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences
THAT night...
SHE wore a flowing, form fitted white spaghetti strapped gown that cascaded in tumbled silken folds to her abdomen and revealed her breath in the soft rise of her alabaster breasts. Her eyes reflected an emerald depth with gold flecks that edged to hazel and were framed by neat, arched brows that narrowed to her temples where her heartbeat announced the rhythm of her life. Her only adornment was a starkly white gardenia nestled in the curves of her auburn curls. The heavy floral fragrance of the corsage announced her arrival as she glided elegantly to her aisle and settled, like a dove, into her center seat. She was alone...but not for long.
Would she regret her indulgence?
HE was a towering, self-assured giant of a black man, chest broad and arms outstretched in opulent black leather. His dark mahogany eyes locked irresistibly onto her and declared his desire. The opera house erupted with his full bass-baritone harmony. His musical seduction began, and his hypnotic gaze was met by her eager response as she answered his desire with a blush.
His hypnotic gaze met her heated blush with hunger.
THEY spent an insatiable night together in Room 457 of the Historic Whitcomb Hotel locked in a magnetic embrace riding moonbeams of passion and ribbons of desire. He took her to the edge, to a special volcanic place inside, somewhere she had never before been and never been since: fiery, impatient, burning, yearning. That magnetic connection fueled a love that wove them irretrievably together in ways that only the future would disclose--a future neither of them ever anticipated.
Would the only man she could turn to help, as the secrets of the past reveal her betrayal?
SHE wore a flowing, form fitted white spaghetti strapped gown that cascaded in tumbled silken folds to her abdomen and revealed her breath in the soft rise of her alabaster breasts. Her eyes reflected an emerald depth with gold flecks that edged to hazel and were framed by neat, arched brows that narrowed to her temples where her heartbeat announced the rhythm of her life. Her only adornment was a starkly white gardenia nestled in the curves of her auburn curls. The heavy floral fragrance of the corsage announced her arrival as she glided elegantly to her aisle and settled, like a dove, into her center seat. She was alone...but not for long.
Would she regret her indulgence?
HE was a towering, self-assured giant of a black man, chest broad and arms outstretched in opulent black leather. His dark mahogany eyes locked irresistibly onto her and declared his desire. The opera house erupted with his full bass-baritone harmony. His musical seduction began, and his hypnotic gaze was met by her eager response as she answered his desire with a blush.
His hypnotic gaze met her heated blush with hunger.
THEY spent an insatiable night together in Room 457 of the Historic Whitcomb Hotel locked in a magnetic embrace riding moonbeams of passion and ribbons of desire. He took her to the edge, to a special volcanic place inside, somewhere she had never before been and never been since: fiery, impatient, burning, yearning. That magnetic connection fueled a love that wove them irretrievably together in ways that only the future would disclose--a future neither of them ever anticipated.
Would the only man she could turn to help, as the secrets of the past reveal her betrayal?
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