“They’re just boobs.” And tiny ones at that. I’ve always been small-chested, an A most days and a B on the best of them. It had been an asset in ballet, and for that, I’d been grateful. But it’s never been a body part I love. Alec leans down and wraps his arms around my waist, and his mouth captures my left nipple. I close my eyes. Oh. He uses his teeth, and his stubble scrapes over my skin. I’ve always liked this but didn’t know it could feel this good. “There’s nothing just about them,” he mutters. “You have perfect tits.”
