A flush of heat crept into Perdita's cheeks at the bizarre, almost ridiculous compliment. Yet despite its peculiarity, she found that it warmed her in an unexpected way.

Caspian’s hand slid down the glass window with a sharp, discordant squeal that drew her focus back to him.

“I’m about to come, Lark,” he growled, his voice dark with intent. “And when I do, I want you to swallow. Can you do that?”

She nodded quickly, her answer emphatic ...