I’m winning this game. I prove it to myself by clamping my teeth down on his thumb as it comes back to the middle of my lip. A blaze of annoyance, a hot hiss of breath, and then Raphael’s gaze snaps up to mine. Three irregular heartbeats pass before he gains enough semblance to drag his thumb from my mouth and rest it lightly on the indentation of my chin. “I bet you bite when you fuck,” he says pensively, as if talking to himself rather than me. My heart hitches. “And I bet you a hundred bucks you’re hard right now,” I answer.
