“Explain what? He drew the card for the first night. We did . . . stuff. The stuff I’m here for. Consensual stuff. All very consensual. All types of consensual.” Then I add in a mutter, “And nobody else’s business, thank you.” Why is it so hard to sound prim and proper when talking about . . . stuff? Dom’s eyes press closed at my words, his jaw clenching. He shakes his head just once. At himself? “Then why in holy flaming hell, darlin’,” Beau grinds out, looking between me and Jayk, “does it look like he’s come off a war zone?”
