“Do that thing with your lips,” she says, her voice still lulled with sleep as her hands go to my hair, carding through the strands. “What thing?” “You know . . .” “Yes?” I tease. “Where you kiss me like I’m your everything. You want me to brush my teeth first?” I chuckle. “No, Mrs. Avery. You always taste like fresh dew in the morning.” She grunts. “Funny.”
They are cutee
