“Still a smartass, I see.” “Don’t stop,” she whispers, fluttering her eyelashes as she twirls the cocktail straw in her glass. “You’re feeding my praise kink.” I moisten my lips and let out a slow breath. “You have one?” She leans in, places her hand on my thigh, and gives it a light squeeze. “Absolutely.” My heart races, and a surge of adrenaline runs through me. Adult Mari has ten times the confidence of her younger self, and she’s equally compelling. She’s probably broken a lot of hearts in the time we’ve been apart.
