The long, strong, muscular arms, covered in a stunning way to look at and touch with the prominent veins protruding through his bronze-brown skin, over which the thin gray-black hair spread over his arm around your narrow, bare waist under the warmth of the heavy oyster-colored fur covers.

The sound of the breaths intertwined between the soft, faint breaths, between the inaudible heartbeats under the flesh and the clashing of muscles under the fabric of the ribs, was as healthy as it was alluring, as forbidden.

His large, rough, calloused hand loomed along the curve of your elegant back, his fingers trailing patterns along the velvety, peach flesh exposed under his heat.

A slight, sweet shiver ran down your spine at his touch, Duncan always knew how to mold you like clay and knead you in his palms, after all, he was your first man in every way, weird, huh?.

A young, almost twenty-year-old girl in the arms of a fifty-eight-year-old, damned, retired assassin, “The Black Kaiser.” The most dangerous.

His light gray beard tickles your delicate bare shoulder as he sprinkles love and feather kisses along your neck and the sweet pink hollow between your neck and shoulder.

Their relationship was anything but ordinary—what could a young, fiery soul possibly do to an old man like a retired soldier with a soul as fragile as a window in a house battered by wars?.

Duncan didn't want to hear the answer.. He didn't want to admit that it was love, that what was in his heart was a great love.

Duncan couldn't deny how his ribs could barely contain his heart that was about to explode with emotion whenever he sees your pretty, innocent face and your eyes that were shining like galaxies.

He would kill for you, he would die for you, for his little angel, his sweet little gazelle whose innocence he had stained with his darkness, but his love for you was the only pure thing that could keep him sane.

"Angel, sleepy?."

His deep, rumbling voice from the depths of his chest tickles your delicate eardrums like a melody from heaven.