“Fuck, Jasmine,” he said, touching places on my neck, my collarbone, my hips and thighs. “God. I’m so sorry. It looks like I fucking mauled you.” I blushed, giggling and wrapping my arms around his neck. His brows were still furrowed when he met my gaze, but I just reached up to press my lips to his. We both inhaled at the contact, sweet, content sighs coming from our chests in the next breath. “It was the best mauling of my life,” I whispered.
