There was no going back now. She bunched her fingers into the bedspread, worrying at her lower lip and trying to dissipate her mortification. She wasn’t a blushing virgin. He’d seen this part of her multiple times now. He’d tasted her on her fingers and off his own any chance he could. It wouldn’t be a surprise. So why did she worry about whether he’d like what he saw, or what she tasted like—