“Careful, bella,” he warns darkly. “You may not have forgiven me yet, but I have plenty of methods to ask for it.” The only response I’m capable of is an embarrassing wheeze. He squeezes me tighter. “I can get on my knees again and show you a blessing from a different type of god,” he purrs, his accent thickening and only making the words sound more salacious. That. Is. Illegal.
