“Tease,” he rasped. His slow, dangerous smile promised payback. Kissing the chocolate from her lips, he unhooked her bra. “You’re not the only one in this family who’s an artist, you know. I was real good at finger painting. And don’t worry,” he said, drawing his chocolate-coated finger between her breasts and down her quivering stomach, “I clean up my messes, too.”
Book:Christmas in July