Her thighs tightened around his waist as he carried her effortlessly to the counter, her breath hitching when his lips found the sensitive curve of her neck. “Malik,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as his hands explored her, fingers tracing her waist beads like they were a treasure map. His mouth moved lower, tasting the honeyed heat of her skin, her scent—incense and desire—wrapping around him, making him ache for more. When she tilted her head back, her dreads spilling over her shoulders, he couldn’t hold back. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick, as she gasped, her body arching into his touch, her every movement begging him to take her further.