“Doubtful. You seem the kind of man to keep people under your thumb, turning the screws.” The side of his mouth hitched. “I am fond of screwing.” She huffed out a breath and cocked her head. “Was that innuendo?” “If you cannot tell then I’ve clearly lost my touch.” “I thought I wasn’t your type?” He lifted a shoulder and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “The more you argue with me, the more ‘my type’ you become.”
OH THIS IS DELECTABLE
