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“What I said last night wasn’t drunk rambling or some ploy to get another fuck out of you. I meant every word.” I felt my jaw tighten, and my heart beat wildly against the palm of his hand. I looked down at it pointedly, and he gave me a soft smile. “I know. Same goes. Morning breath,” I warned, as he leaned in. “Don’t give a shit. I like you dirty.”
“How about now?” he asked. “That’s not handholding. That’s like…hand fucking. Or hand seduction. Your hand is seducing mine, and my hand has zero game. It’s just gonna hop in the bed with yours without even dinner or a drink first. Maybe I need to give it a lecture about standards.”
I bit my lip. Definitely not the time to remind Mark that a supplier didn’t an addict make, but I could understand his concern now. Maybe?
What does that even mean....
“You’re on, frat boy.”
