“I don’t think bonding means you can’t leave my side.” “What if I don’t want to?” I shoot him a bored look. “So we’re back to this? Flirting with me?” “That wasn’t flirting,” he says, leaning in close. “If I were flirting, your ass would be in my lap instead of on this cheap leather.” I bristle. “Good thing you’re not flirting, then.” “Do you want me to?” he whispers, our noses inches apart. “We can order drinks. I know you like sharing those.”
