There was no trick to Meghan’s question. Teasing, maybe, but no trick. She didn’t understand his claim that his forte was resistible opportunities, considering how irresistible she found him now that she had gotten to spend the day with him away from the villa paradise.
Blaise’s lips were soft and warm and surprisingly tender, a sharp contrast to his smooth charm. Pulling back as he did, a small though highly amused frown appeared between her eyes. She could choose do to whatever she desired? If there’d ever been any doubt about that, all one had to do was open the Prophet to the gossip pages – or take a look in a couple of issues of Playwizards – and they would know that Meghan McCormack did whatever she wanted to, when she wanted to… unless it was during Quidditch season.
Unhooking her thumb from his belt loop, Meghan reached up and with a hand behind Blaise’s head, pulled him back closer so she could kiss him; a long, deep, slow kiss. “I always do what I want,” she assured him, “And you, Mister Zabini, are not resistible.”