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For the third time this week, Kagome woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed.
She crept downstairs, following soft moans and dim light into the kitchen.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
Sesshōmaru slouched against the open refrigerator, pint of chocolate ice cream in hand, half-transformed in hedonistic bliss.
Crimson eyes glowed innocently.
“This is becoming a problem,” Kagome sighed. “It’s an addiction. Chocolate is bad for dogs, you know.”
“Good thing I’m not a dog.”
“Should I call Poison Control or Addicts Anonymous?”
He trailed the chocolate-covered spoon over her collarbone, grinned wickedly and pounced.