“Yes, I would. Tell me what you want, Amina. I’ll give you anything. It’s all yours anyway.” “Pretty sure that stopped being the case when we signed the divorce papers.” His hand slides lower, and the tip of his pinky grazes the low cut lace hugging my hips as he studies me. Whiskey eyes taking in all of my features and stealing my breath. “I don’t give a fuck about those papers. Everything I have is yours, and it always will be because I wouldn’t have any of it if it wasn’t for you.”
