But Poet cupped my chin and framed my profile with his free hand. “Look at me, sweet thorn.” And when I did, his expression halted my fingers. “I want to see your body. I want every beguiling part of you on my mouth. But most of all …” His breath sailed across my lips. “I want to see every truth about you—everything raw and real. I want you to destroy me.” He ducked his head and met my gaze. “Show me those lovely secrets, and I promise, I’ll honor them.”
