“D’you know what I want?” he says, his voice so low and hot that it burns right through Alex’s solar plexus, right into the core of him. “What?” “I want,” he says, “to do the absolute last thing I’m supposed to be doing right now.” Alex juts out his chin, grinningly defiant. “Then tell me to do it, sweetheart.” And Henry, tonguing the corner of his own mouth, tugs hard to undo Alex’s belt and says, “Fuck me.”
