Mark smirked, his gaze flicking toward the tray of half-eaten food before settling back on me. "That's probably the 4 a.m. fries talking."
I huffed a quiet laugh, shifting onto my side to face him. "I think I'm just wired from all the sugar. And maybe the company."
His lips twitched. "That so?"
I nodded, reaching out to settle my hand over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my palm. His skin was warm, still carrying the lingering heat from the bath, from everything before it.
Mark watched me, his eyes darkening slightly, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he shifted, turning fully toward me, closing the space between us. His fingers found my waist, his touch featherlight, teasing.
"I should probably tire you out then," he murmured, his voice dipping lower.
A shiver ran through me. "Should you?"
