Anna knew what she was doing was wrong. Alexander was still her boyfriend, but somehow, she didn’t care anymore. If it weren’t for his car accident, she would have broken up with him, which meant she would be free to love Vronsky and to be loved by him as well.

The dogs were barking, howling with excitement and scrambling around the slick marble floor of the foyer. She wondered if she should go rescue him from their slobbery kisses. No, it would be good practice for him. They were child’s play in comparison to what she planned to do to him. She wanted to eat him like a bowl of ice cream. She wanted to put her fingers in his mouth and make him suck the tips. She wanted to get him into her childhood bed and scare all the monsters hiding under it. An earthquake, they would think. The end of the world, they would think. That’s what she wanted most of all, to be loud, unbridled, with no one in the house. Anna was tired of being quiet and polite and demure.

She couldn’t hear him climbing up the steps, but she knew he was coming because the dogs were bounding thunderously up the stairs. She looked up, and he was standing in her doorway. Was there a nervousness about him? If there was, it was gone in an instant. He crossed the bedroom and joined her on the bed. Their kissing was like breathing for her, as though she had been holding her breath whenever they were apart, and now that he was with her, she had to gasp and take in as much of him as she could.

Her robe was on the floor in a manner of seconds, her bra forgone, her panties kept on as a mere formality. She laughed, trying to unbutton the tiny buttons on his shirt, kissing him hungrily as she went. He smelled so good, a mix of wild lilac and freshly chopped wood. She could tell he was hard, could feel it pressing against her. She wanted to see all of him, wanted to taste every square inch of him.

Afraid he might explode early from her naked body grinding against him, he knew he had to slow down the pace. “Anna … Anna,” he purred as she unbuckled his belt. He grabbed her hands to stop her, and she looked up at him, wild-eyed, animalistic, and now he understood. He was the prey. He was the fish who had seen the shiny object twinkle in the water, and she had hooked him through the heart with such precision that when he burst to the surface he felt as though he was being lifted by the hands of God herself … look at me, I can fly!