Monica's POV
Morris's fingers slid beneath my hair with practiced precision, gently lifting the tiara from my head. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto a nearby armchair. Breaking our kiss, he circled me slowly, his violet eyes blazing with undisguised hunger. Like a predator savoring the moment before claiming his prize, he positioned himself behind me and pressed his lips to my bare shoulders.
One by one, his fingers worked the buttons of my wedding gown. After the last button surrendered to his touch, his hands glided to my shoulders. With deliberate slowness, he pulled the satin ribbons that held my dress in place. As the bow at my neck came undone, my wedding dress cascaded down my body, pooling around my feet in a cloud of lace and tulle.
