She tastes like the whipped cream on the top of the pie we had for dessert, sweet and sugary and a delicious slice of heaven. Lacey climbs into my lap and hovers over me, her thighs on either side of my hips and a question in her eyes. “Yes,” I say, and my hand curls around her throat. “The answer is always yes. Tonight. Tomorrow. Six months from now. Everything I have is yours, Lacey girl.”
