NOTHIN’ BUT A MAN-TRAP
He stepped back and studied her with interest.
“Disgusted? By me? Is this the same Winny that rushes to my bed and begs for my love? Cannot be . . .”
Her face flamed with humiliation. Everything he said was true. Carlos was different from all the other men — the only one who seemed to simply assume that she wanted him. And she did want him, even now. She couldn’t get enough of him. His body was as beautiful as hers, and sometimes, as attuned to pleasure. Yes, he could make her beg for more . . . and he always had more to give her. And then there was the thrill of doing something very wrong. Since her teens, Winny had been breaking the normal run of rules. There was no novelty left in simply being labeled a bad woman.