I was in Cancun, Mexico, sitting in a disappearing-edge swimming pool, on a bar stool that was actually under the water, watching palm trees sway in a sultry breeze against the unmistakable aqua splendor of the Caribbean Sea; drinking coconut, lime, and tequila from a scooped-out pineapple, with salt spray of breaking surf and sun kissing my skin. Translation: I'd died and gone to heaven.
Karen Marie MoningOh, please," I rolled my eyes, "You're a leftie, Barrons." "Touche, Ms. Lane," he murmured.
Karen Marie MoningCaring is love. And love fights! Love doesn't look for the path of least resistance.
Karen Marie MoningI moistened my lips. His gaze fixed on them. I think I stopped breathing. He jerked so sharply away that his long dark coat sliced air, and turned his back to me. โWas that an invitation, Ms.Lane?โ โIf it was?โ I asked, astonishing myself. What did I think I was doing? โI donโt do hypotheticals. Little girl.
Karen Marie MoningThen why was his tongue in your mouth? Was he conducting a clinical test of your gag reflex?" He smiled, but not nicely. "How is your gag reflex, Ms. Lane? Are you a hair trigger?" Barrons likes to use sexual innuendo to try to shut me up. I think he expects the well-raised southern belle in me will think eew and back off. Sometimes, I do think eew, but I don't back off. "I'm a spitter, if that's what you're asking." I flashed him a too-sweet smile. "Didn't look that way to me. I think you're a swallower. His tongue was halfway to China and you were still taking it." "Jealous?
Karen Marie Moning