“You're allowed to look, sweetheart, he murmured, running a finger down her hot cheek. I enjoy having your eyes on me.”

“Put me down.”“Nope.” He held her snuggled to his bare chest, tipping her up so he could rub his cheek against hers. “I like carrying you.”

“What are you doing?” Her voice shook.“Whatever I want, sweetheart.”

“You spanked me,” she told him.“I did.” He lifted her shoulders high enough to push a wedge pillow under the pad. “And I enjoyed it very much. You have a very spankable ass, no?”

“You're very lovely, gatita."Her brows pulled together, and she gave him a skeptical stare."Do not look at your master as if he's an idiot.”

“Look at me, sugar.” She lifted her eyes, and he wiped away the tear that spilled over. “I could tell you what I do and don't do, but you wouldn't believe a word I said. So let's get this over with.”

“She couldn’t take her eyes from the dancing flame. No, this was so wrong. Candles should be used for meditation…for romance. Or on a birthday cake at least.So where was the cake? The present? The song? As he stepped closer to her—as the damned flame got way too close—she started singing. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me…” Marcus paused, looking at her in disbelief. See. I knew he didn’t have a sense of humor. “Happy birthday, dear Gabi”—she lifted her head and blew out the candle—“happy birthday to me.”