Connor scrolls through his phone, more agitation passing across his features than I think he’d want to show. “Your shipment of handcuffs not come in, sweetheart?” I ask him before picking my sub back up in two hands. “Hoping I’ll cuff you to my bed?” he banters, his face returning to that impassive, unreadable state. “I’d make good on your fantasies, but Rose would be pissed at the claw marks on the headboard.” “Now I have claws?” I say with raised eyebrows. He combats me by arching one. That fucker. “You’re lucky. I don’t usually let dogs sleep in my bed, but I’m willing to make an
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LMAO
