Page 75 of Exodus

He resumes his touch, suckling my chest and teasing me without reservation.

“You’re a cruel and evil man,” I rasp out, digging my fingers into his scalp.

“Word of the day, soumission.” He muses as my hips buck due to his touch.

“Submission? Dream on, pal.”

“Have you forgotten already? One finger.” He licks a trail from my neck to my ear. “And I’m pretty sure that was a tear I licked off your temple.”

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” He licks his finger in threat.

“Tobias,” I mewl, hearing the husk in my voice. “It was just a dream.”

“Ah, but I’ve been paying for it. At least enlighten me on what I’m guilty of in your land of make-believe.”

“You were mean to me.”

He pins my wrists and leans in as I struggle. “Mean to you?” He rolls his eyes. “That you can handle.”

“Breakfast,” I remind him.

“It can wait,” he retorts.

“You were starving.”

“It can wait.”

“Tobias, damnit, let me up.”

“You’re your own worst enemy right now.”

“Debatable,” I say, lifting to bite his chin, and he dodges me easily. “This is bullshit. You outweigh me by nearly a hundred pounds. I’m utterly helpless.”

“Guess you better find some leverage. Or you can just tell me what I was doing.”

Briefly, I entertain headbutting him and get a smug grin.

“It will hurt you more than it will me.”

“Get out of my head.”

“Gladly, it seems to be a scary place today. But only after you give me what I want.”

“Fine.” I close my eyes. “There may have been lingerie models behind you when you slammed the door in my face.”

Heat creeps up my neck and I peek up at him with one eye open. He stares down at me a second before bursting into laughter.

I push at his chest. “It’s not funny.”

He dips his head and nuzzles me. “Oh, mon bébé, are we jealous? No wonder you rode me this morning like you were trying to tame a horse. Going for the gold, huh?”

“It’s not funny.” I shove at his chest, my heart lurching as I again picture him eyeing me with a slew of half-naked women behind him before he shut me out. Gazing up at him, I feel the stretch of my own reluctant smile as he glitters down on me with affection. It’s this look, the look on his face now, that keeps me breathless, a relapsed and happy addict.

“Maybe I’ll get used to cinnamon, for you.” He sips a little of the spiced water on my neck with eager lips before making me painfully aware of the difference between the first time he kissed me and now. Everything has changed.

Everything.

He works his sinful mouth, sliding his flavored tongue against my own, and he kisses me and kisses me while the sun warms our skin. “You think adding cinnamon to breakfast will make up for the horrible things you’ve done?”

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