“Tickles, tickles," Dontrell murmured, his voice dripping with mischief as he hovered over me, his weight pressing me into the bed.
"Stop!" I gasped between laughter, twisting beneath him as his fingers teased my waist and ears.
“Want me to stop?” he asked, slowing to a torturous pace.
“No,” I gasped between giggles. “But I have a dress fitting in forty minutes and need to get up from under you.” I exhaled, staring into his dark, unreadable eyes. “But it’s so hard to leave when you look this good.” My voice trailed off as I ran my fingers through his hair.
His dark eyes held mine, amusement dancing in them. "You can go whenever you want. No one's going to charge you a late fee when the fashion house belongs to your husband."
I laughed. “That’s true. And to think I spent all my time in
