“I know, right,” she said, breaking George free from her trance. “Not what I was in the mood for either.” “And what are you in the mood for?” she asked in her husky tone, half hoping and half terrified that Mila would read the double meaning behind it. In the microseconds of silence, George’s heart galloped up her throat as if trying to make a mad dash out of her mouth. She’d overplayed her hand. Pushed too far. Fuck. “Breakfast?” Mila suggested as if never second-guessing her intentions. Disappointment left a bitter taste in George’s mouth, but she ignored it. She quirked an eyebrow. “You
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