Derek swallowed. The sound was loud in the quiet room. His throat bobbed as he tried to process the woman standing behind him, the woman whispering dark, sweet promises into his ear. His hands were gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that the leather creaked.
Marissa didn't stop. She moved her hands from his chest to his shirt. Her fingers were nimble, working the top button loose.
"Can I make a suggestion?" she whispered.
Her voice was a soft, smoky purr that sent a shiver straight down Derek's spine. She leaned in closer. She caught the lobe of his ear between her teeth. She bit him, just hard enough to sting, just soft enough to tease.
Derek gasped, his head falling back against her shoulder.
"What if..." Marissa murmured, her lips brushing against his jawline, "what if you eat me first?"
She kissed his cheek, a slow, wet press of her lips.
"I can assure you," she whispered, "I am much more tasty than that tray of cold soup."
