After ten or maybe eleven threatened to send me teetering, she thankfully stopped. “Just a few of my favorites.” “Just a few,” I repeated, scarcely able to see her over the stack precariously balanced within my arms. Another chuckle came from Cerwin. “They’re all very steamy,” Daylia whispered. “If you know what I mean.” “She’s winking,” her mate informed dryly. “Just in case you can’t see past the pile of damsels in distress in your arms.”
