Gloved Hands on My Victorian Wedding Night: A Raw Victorian Bridal Medical Romance

My quiet determination had carried me this far, but nothing prepared me for the way Gavin's gloved hands would test every boundary I thought I could keep when he asked me to lie back on the examination table in the gaslit clinic.

On the leather table under the gaslight, his fingers traced my pulse and the faint birthmark on my thigh with a control that made my fear of losing everything flare into something hotter and more dangerous, especially with the rival's legal threats hanging over us.

When he removed the gloves, the examination did not end. It changed. The rival waited at the doorway with his legal threats, and I understood what my sister's safety would cost. Gavin told me to lie back again.

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E-bog: 15. august 2026