“The more time I spend with you, Prince, the less I seem to know you.” “That’s not what I want.” Elm twirled her away, then pulled her back into his chest. “I want you to know me very well, Ione Hawthorn. Which is”—he dipped her again, bowing over her and speaking against her throat—“a rather horrifying feeling, if I’m perfectly honest.”
Again im unwell
