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Zane was making me want to fluff out all of my feathers and strut around him like a sex-starved peacock.
“Let’s do it,” Zane repeated, his lips curling into a smile. I realized how I could never get bored of that sight. Zane wore a smile better than me wearing a custom-made Prada suit.
His dark hair was slightly messed up, a curled strand falling down onto his forehead like a crescent-shaped shadow.
Damn. Zane really is one of the best. Annnd, I was hard again. Merda.
I went in like Enzo had just served me cake. And I fucking loved caked.
