Chapter Thirty-Three
Just like during our kiss at the Botanical Garden, I experience an ethereal, out-of-body joy. If we were to float off the bed, I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.
Breathing heavily, Art pulls back to meet my gaze. The heat in his melted-chocolate eyes could caramelize sugar on a dozen crèmes brûlées. “I want you,” he murmurs, and the hunger in his voice sends an erotic shiver down my spine.
My heart hammers hard against my ribs as I kick the stifling blanket off of us. “Oh? Can you be more specific?”
Can melted-chocolate turn into magma? “I want to make you come all over my face,” he says, enunciating every word. “And after that, all over my cock.”
That I can speak is a miracle. “What about Rule One?”
“f**k Rule One,” he growls.
I lick my lips. “What about
