“Uh-huh. Sure,” I mutter, waggling my eyebrows. “You know, I have a thing for shy, socially awkward girls.” “Oh, really?” Hayes gifts me a knee-weakening grin. “Yep. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” “Is that so?” I volley. “Oh, yeah. I’m like one of those Tootsie Pops you have to lick to get to the center of.” “So you’re saying that I’ll eventually get to your ooey-gooey center if I keep licking enough?” “In the right places,” he drawls, cupping my face in his hands and planting a soft, slow kiss on my lips. He licks the silk of my mouth, tasting the acrid malt on my tongue from the
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