Seong-Jae gave him one of those too-bland looks. “So am I your good luck now?” “I don’t need your mouth right now, Seong-Jae,” Malcolm muttered—then flushed, a touch of heat creeping over his cheeks, down his throat, as he thought of Seong-Jae’s ripe, soft mouth, hot and needy and— He bit off a few more curses in Persian, and glowered at Seong-Jae.
