Ally had no clue what a temptation she dangled in front of him as she calmly ate the pie with her fingers. He felt like a long-at-sea pirate sighting his first woman in months. He ached. He drooled. He hardened. He craved those plump lips that were stained with blackberry juice. He wanted that eager tongue that lapped thick syrup from between her fingers. He wanted that tongue to lap in other, more personal places. His personal places. He wanted to get closely involved with her mouth and taste the blackberries she was munching with such abandon. Then he would move on, eliminating her bib, her pajama top, and especially her pajama bottoms so that he could sample fruits sweeter than any blackberry ever invented. For one glorious moment she looked at him as though she’d go for that routine. If that look had stayed in her green eyes another second, he would have shoved the pie plate aside and deployed his eager forces. Unfortunately, her expression had changed, and he could guess what was going on.
