He catches my chin with one hand, thumbing over the tender flesh of my bottom lip. “That’s not what I want to hear from this mouth when you’re in my arms.” The words and the low intonation make my core clench, and without my permission, my tongue darts out to lick the tip of his thumb. In response, he tracks the movement, his hazel irises igniting in twin amber flames. “Nicky,” I whisper.
