roll my eyes at his smooth baritone. “And second, what happened tonight is . . . was . . .” When words fail me, Jackson’s dark eyes soften. He ducks his head to dunk his toast through the egg yolk. “The stars aligned.” Swoon. Seriously, that shouldn’t sound as romantic as it does, but there you go. Jackson Carter is clearly determined to steal my breath away tonight, by orgasm or by other, no-less-panty-melting measures.
