“I take back my earlier words. You taste better than Rowen.” Mischief flashed in her eyes as the man in question shouted his displeasure at her conclusion, but I grinned so damn hard my face hurt. She hadn’t rebuffed me. She hadn’t fled in terror. “Don’t worry, precious, you’re saving the best for last,” Axton goaded. I flipped him off, not that he could see it. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
