she didn’t miss the echoes of that awed reverence in his eyes, even as he said mockingly, “You’re covered in chocolate.” She arched a brow. “And whose fault is that?” “Don’t worry.” He swiped a finger over the swell of one breast without warning, collecting cake batter that was almost the same shade as her skin. Then, holding her gaze, he licked the finger. “I’ll clean it up.”
