His free hand slides into my hair and curls into a fist, holding my head. “You know what they say about playing with fire.” He twists my head, his lips dragging across my cheek until they reach my ear. “Bad little Bea,” he taunts, catching my earlobe between his teeth. Warmth floods my body as he sucks the skin, then nips at it again. “Don’t you dare bite me!” “Use your manners, and maybe I’ll be nice.” His voice is a gritty whisper. His grip on my hair tightens, and his tongue sweeps the shell of my
