Page 189 of A Taste of Vanilla

I bite her.

Not hard enough to hurt the wrong way, but hard enough that she sucks in a breath and grabs my shoulder like she needs a lifeline.

“Again,” she moans.

The word almost ruins me.

I bite lower, where the mark can stay hidden beneath her shirt if she wants, and her entire body presses into mine.

“Warren.”

I grip the hem of her shirt and stop. She’s breathing hard, her eyes locked on mine.

“Yes,” she says.

“Say it again.”

Her mouth parts, and I watch surprise cross her face. “Yes.”

“What are you saying yes to?”

Her fingers tighten their hold on me. “My shirt.”

“And?”

Her cheeks flush darker. “Warren.”

“No.” My voice drops, and I feel the shiver that moves through her because of it. “You told me to ask. I’m asking.”

“Take it off.”

I pull it up over her head. Her hair lifts with it, falling messily around her face when the shirt hits the floor. Underneath, she wears a pale blue tank, and I can see her hardened nipples strain against the fabric. My brain goes quiet.

My hands find her waist, the bare skin warm and soft.

“Still yes?”

She looks up at me, annoyed, her lips red. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

The words leave my lips before I can stop them.

Her eyes go wide, and for a second, neither of us breathes. Then, her thighs press together.

Fuck.

I feel the reaction before she can hide it. The way her throat moves and her eyes darken. The way one hand grips the edge of the counter like it’s the only stable thing in the room.

“Do you like that?”

She swallows again. “Maybe.”

I smile. “Not maybe.”

Her breathing is shaky. “Yes.”

My hand slides to the back of her neck, and her lashes flutter. Pulling her closer, I whisper near her ear, “Then I’ll use it again when you earn it.”