“Anyway, Rory did.” I pause. “How did you know I didn’t do it myself?” The expensive fabric of his slacks touches the backs of my thighs. “You can’t braid, Queenie.” I frown. “How do you know that?” He stills, then skims his nose up the curve of my throat, bringing his lips to my ear. “Apologies. I’m thinking of one of my other enemies with benefits.” Jealousy flashes behind my eyelids. I whip around to push him off, but he tightens his grip on my braid, yanking my head back until it rests below his collar pin. “I’ll have to thank my sister-in-law for giving me a leash.”
