While I’m taping plastic wrap to the floor, Seraphine returns with a nail gun. I raise a brow. “You should see all his tools,” she says, her cheeks flushed. “He has so many.” “Can you do something for me?” I ask. “What?” “Don’t touch his cock.” Her brows pinch. “Why not?” “If you touch him like you did that other guy, I’ll put a bullet through his head.”
