His thumb dusts over the freckles of my sternum. “I love these,” he whispers, before shifting to skim the lace of my bralette. “And this…this looks so fucking good on you, Ken. What color is it? White?” I swallow down the nerves. “Yellow.” A grin hitches on his lips as his eyes come back up to find mine, that birthmark I’m obsessed with hidden behind a smile line. “My favorite color.”
