Don't fret, Grannie. We're going to a Bible retreat to scare the devil out of her
Ian grinned at her, trailing a pale hand down his chest. “Luscious, aren‟t I, poppet? Go on, stare. I don‟t mind.
It hasn't escaped my notice that you only compliment me when you're intoxicated.
It hurts to much to be close to you, but continually pushed away.
…well just call me Hannibal Lecter. With cleavage.
It must be important or he wouldn't dare disturb me now,” he muttered. Then he drew away to look at me. “If it's not, I'll kill him and return to you directly.