“At least deny it.”
“No lies.” He whispered mischievously “ I keep my promises”.
Damn him.
I kissed him again, because there was only so much a woman could reasonably endure.
His breath caught the second my mouth touched his, and that alone almost ruined me.
He could toss me over one shoulder if he wanted. He could probably tear a door off its hinges without much effort. And still, one kiss from me made him freeze like the choice was holy.
I pulled back enough to look at him.
“I am sure,” I said.
His eyes darkened.
“Martha, I’m not a saint”
“I am one hundred percent sure.”
His hands flexed at his sides, not on my body.
The bastard.
The beautiful, overgrown, emotionally devastating bastard.
“I am not saying I know how to do all of it,” I continued, because if I was jumping,
