“What do I taste like, Princess?” he asks. “Mint. Spice. A fever dream I don’t want to wake up from.” Did he slip me some truth serum or am I just that bad at not being completely transparent? His mouth lifts at the corner. “That’s very specific.” “What about me? What do I taste like?” I ask. It’s purely research. I’ll need to know if my breath is bad or if there’s anything I can improve on for future kisses. Not necessarily with Rhys, because that’s not what I should be focusing on, but at this moment I’m having a hard time imagining kissing anyone else. “Like you’re mine.”
