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Both her body, soft and full—as lush as the most indulgent portrait of Venus—and her arrestingly expressive face.
“Riley.” Clark scraped his teeth against the hinge of her jaw. “Let me leave a mark.”
but Clark brought his lips to the meat of her shoulder instead and sucked, hot and hard on the tender skin.
“I can’t believe I’ve got you in my bed, bare beneath my clothes.” His voice was low and incredulous, something like starry-eyed delight underpinning the words.
“And?” Even though fighting for the upper hand seemed vaguely insincere at this point, Riley could at least make him work for it. “What do you plan to do with me?” Clark reached between her legs and pressed the rough ridge of his knu...
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“There is literally nothing more awful than having someone sit in front of you with an acoustic guitar and play a song they just wrote. It should be illegal. Where am I supposed to look? Your hands? Your mouth? What if it sounds terrible? I don’t wanna tell you.”
“I’m saying I think the ancient, horny fae magic might not be satisfied until you rail me.”
“An enemies-to-lovers sex ritual with a smoldering Englishman?” The Scotswoman groaned. “Why are the requirements of your job so much better than mine?”
(He did eat her out later. First in the shower, on his knees, and then again in the bed with his arm across her stomach, saying, “One more. Give me one more,” in a rough, desperate way that ensured she did.)
