Her eyes widened in genuine, frantic shock. She scrambled backward, her hips sliding against the sweat-slicked sheets, her heart beginning to race with a new kind of terror.
Her husband was lying right there, mere inches from her, his breathing deep and even, looking as though he had been sleeping peacefully beside her all night.
She looked down at her own body, the stains on the sheets, the soreness in her womb, and the lingering sensation of being filled to the brim and then back at her husband's innocent, dreaming face.
The sheer impossibility of it made her head spin. She was a woman caught between two worlds: the holy, domestic life of a wife and the depraved, animalistic reality of a woman claimed by a god of lust.
Rex didn't even glance at the sleeping Cassius as he reached out, his large, calloused fingers gripping Amelia's chin. He tilted her head up, forcing her to look directly into his dark, hungry eyes.
