“I know every scowl, every frown, every hidden smile. I even know the ones you’ve never graced me with.” “No, you don’t.” I scowled. “I know your tells, Lyla James. Every single one of them.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, tilting my head a little more, so we were just a breath apart. “Tell me what’s wrong.” “It’s really nothing.” I met his eyes. “I was just thinking that now I understand why all these women want you so badly.”
