Ahead of us, the comforter slides back from the bed. I give Des the side-eye. “That’s a bit presumptuous.” “No, cherub. This is presumptuous.” The top button on my pants pops open, and my zipper slides down. My shirt tugs itself up. My skin brightens with interest because even after all these years, my siren is still a hussy when it comes to Des. The King of the Night laughs and scoops me up before tossing me lightly onto the bed. “Phew,” he says. “I’ve still got it.”
