“Are you sweet or spicy, babe? A pushover or a fighter?” I pulled back when she didn’t answer right away. Her gaze glinted with embarrassment or anger or both. “Should we see? You as sweet as this chocolate or not?” I was pushing her to the edge. I knew that. Maybe I wanted her to fold and step away. She needed to. She needed to understand her place, but instead she stepped up to me and reached into the saucepan, swiping up melted chocolate on her finger and then dragging it across her collarbone. “I don’t know, Dominic.” She whispered, “Want to taste me and see?”
