As usual, his hands are on me in the next instant, pulling me to him, and I exhale a tired breath. “Was that the knee-me-in-the-bollocks sound you just made?” he asks next to my ear, lips already dragging down my throat. “After you threw yourself before the very worst part of me and gave me your neck? You’re the most frustratingly confusing woman I’ve ever known. I believe this is the truest meaning of mixed signals.”
