Swain’s breath tickled her ear. “Can we make up now, or do you still wanna fight?”

She shifted her hips over his lap. “I can feel how much you want to make up.”

He bit her earlobe, then drew it into his mouth and smoothed his tongue over it. The heat of his body, the urgent strength of his erection, the slow sweep of his tongue—it all held her in a sweet, heavy thrall. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together to stifle a moan.

“What you feel there? That’s me pretty much all the time you’re around.” His hands cruised over her lap and up the sides of her body to cup her breasts. She arched into his touch, covering his hands with her own.

“Eden?”

“Huh?”

“I know this wasn’t in your plans. Mine, either, though I won’t deny it was in my wildest dreams. But I don’t think we’re going to get this genie back in the bottle.”

No, they definitely weren’t. Eyes closed, savoring the way he molded her breasts, she smiled and wiggled her hips again. “Is that what you call it? Your genie?”

“It’s your genie, choux. It’ll grant all your wishes.”

Her laugh turned into a groan when he sent one hand down her abdomen to ease between her legs. “Am I limited to three?”

He plucked her nipple, stroked her center, and just that deftly balanced her at the brink of a dizzying new orgasm. “No limits.”