Here's an excerpt
"I'm glad you came."
More dirty thoughts crossed her mind. Oh Lord help me, his voice sounds like sex. Is that even possible?
“Yes, I'm glad I came too. My name is Anastasia, by the way." She held out her hand to shake his. He took her hand in his and turned it to kiss the top. His onyx eyes never left hers. Her body melted, her knees went weak, and she felt a tingle between her thighs. Staring into the man's black eyes, the world around her seemed to fade away, leaving just him and her.
"My name is Victore." She barely heard him speak, and when he let go of her hand, she came back to reality. Weird.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked, concerned.
"Yes, I'm okay; it's just a bit warm in here, and I've had a few glasses of wine already." Victore extended his hand, and she immediately took it without a thought. Get a grip, girl, control yourself.
"Come, let me show you the terrace and you can get some fresh air."
She could barely think with her arm in his, feeling like a hormonal teenager. Anastasia didn't go gaga over a guy like one of those brainless girls. Did she?
"Do you like what you have seen so far?" he asked. Anastasia nodded slowly, regaining control over her brain cells. She liked everything, including Victore.
"Everything is exquisite." She pointed to the ceiling. "Were those carved? The beams?" she asked.
"Yes," he said simply, and she frowned. Music began to play as they crossed the ballroom floor.
"Oh, Victore, would you care to dance with me?" she said excitedly.
"I thought you wanted to get some air?" he replied.
"Yes, I do, but after one dance," she pleaded. What was happening to her? Pleading? She didn't plead. He twirled her around, and she faced him and his dark, sexy eyes. His pale skin brought out every dark feature—his hair, his eyes, and his suit—against his flesh. He pulled her close to him, his arm wrapping around her waist. She felt the heat from his body and something else. No, it couldn't be. The tips of his fingers slightly grazed the top of her ass, and she nearly lost it. Her breast pressed tightly against his hard, muscled chest. Her legs intermingled with his, and she inhaled, smelling his cologne, an aroma of male and spices. Was there anything better?