Sasha returns her grin. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Then Mama scowls as she wags that finger in his face. “This is a serious Mama Bear warning, though: Hands to self. If you smudge her lipstick before midnight, I’ll come for you.”
His thumb strokes the arch of my hip. “She’s safe with me.”
“Mm. I’ve heard that before.” With a wink, Belle says something about shrimp puffs and goes skipping off.
The second she’s out of earshot, Sasha’s lips brush the hinge of my jaw. “What’s eating you, ptichka?”
I do my best to keep my expression neutral. “Who says anything’s eating me?”
Chuckling, Sasha taps the furrow between my brows. “This says so.” Then he taps my chin. “This says so.” He taps my fidgeting hands, my lip swollen from chewing on it. “And this, and this. All your tells are giving you
