Without thinking, I reached up and stabbed the bubble protruding between Loren’s sinful lips. The gum popped and deflated, leaving a sticky, blue mess. Those pools of ink he called eyes widened in shock even as the irises gleamed with retribution. The last thing I expected was for him to press forward, place his nose against my hair and inhale. He was smelling me and didn’t care if I noticed. I found myself doing the same, breathing in the mint on his breath and bergamot in his expensive cologne. Fuck me. “When you least expect it, baby fawn, you’re going to hurt for that.” Don’t make promises
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