Julian Fairchild kissed her lightly and coaxed her softly, "Do you want to be with me?"
The girl smiled without a hint of hesitation, "Yes!"
Now, she was more in tune with her instincts.
Like is like, dislike is dislike.
Julian Fairchild's thin lips curled into a smile.
He silently noted that Maeve Lane must never drink in places he couldn't see her.
If she drinks, it should only be in his presence; he didn't want anyone else to see this side of Maeve Lane.
The girl was like a child clinging to a beloved toy, her hands wrapped around the man's muscular waist, squeezing occasionally.
Julian Fairchild allowed her little gestures, took out his phone, and then rewarded her with a kiss on the lips, his voice husky, "Say it again."
Maeve Lane was a bit perplexed.
The man held her with one hand, while his other hand intertwined with hers, "Tell me who you want to be with?"
Her nose was filled with the man's masculine and wild scent.
The feeling of danger surfaced once again.
