• She walked with a certain grace, an ethereal elegance somehow surpassing any he had ever seen. The flowing skirts of her black silken gown made the elegant pair of legs beneath them cry out for his touch; the absence of the sound of footfalls as her feet touched the floor gave the impression that she was gliding on the air. Even her gorgeous fall of fiery red hair, cascading down her back in wavy flags, seemed to be luring him into her her dark chamber.

    The hall was blackened, but the ambiance only added to the mood. He reached up and ran his fingers through his thick mass of golden hair when at last he came to a halt behind her. The large mahogany door in front of them, with its rich red color, gave a suggestive grin, as he knew it would. It was all coming down to these next few moments.

    Silence consumed them in the hall as the woman slowly turned to grace him with a sidelong glance. The fervent green of her bedroom eyes popped from the creamy white of her supple skin in the same manner that the rose red lipstick painting her faint smile did. They shared eyes for a time out of mind, her green with his metallic gray, scrutinizing, speaking, and studying without words.

    It was in one fluid movement that she reached out and offered him a delicate, freshly manicured hand, "Are you ready to find out just what kind of many you really are, Mr. Mashari?" she asked softly, her voice matching the silken texture of her lily white skin.

    Her curvaceous frame in that tight black bodice had his inner beast panting. Were he not already aware of just what kind of man he was, his humanity would have succumbed to the primal desires pounding away at the pillars of his self control.

    Without saying a single word, he reached out and took her delicate hand in his powerful one, and she pulled him through the door.