He nods, but instead of taking it, he shifts me to recline against the pillows, and he grabs the bottle, then shoulders his way between my thighs. “I’ve wanted to drink from you since you peeled off my jersey.” I squeak in surprise as he pours a splash of champagne into my belly button, then covers it with his lips and swallows the mouthful. He lifts his head, his throat still working, and he holds my gaze. “You taste better than I imagined, Sinclaire Rosehill.” “You…thought about…” I trail off into a sigh as he presses the rounded mouth of the glass bottle against my nipple and tips it
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