This time a full-blown grin finds its way onto his lips. “I’m not the Tony Soprano of this operation. Thank fuck. And I’m giving it to you so we can have a conversation without you spending the entire time waiting for me to pull it out and shoot you.” I hum thoughtfully, eyeing the weapon again. “You don’t even know me. I could be crazy. Deranged. A sociopath with no regard for human life,” I taunt, reaching out and dragging my finger along the cool metal handle of his gun. He leans in, his breath ghosting over my cheek. “If you’re trying to make my dick hard, it’s working.”
