Chapter Eighty Four
She rubbed her face against his chest, adjusting herself against his body with a movement that unbelievably teased his recently satisfied flesh. “And you belong to me.” She said.
He did not deny it. The bitter pill had turned out sweeter than nectar and he reveled in his possession of a woman so sweet, so passionate and so completely lacking in artifice. She was everything her father was not.
Everything women like Olivia could never hope to be. Tenderness he had never known toward a lover washed over him and he caressed her back, wanting to soothe her to sleep in his arms.
A soft butterfly kiss landed near his left nipple. “I love you, Dash,” she whispered against his skin.
The words did strange things to his insides and he could almost thank Neal Patchett for giving him the gift of such a woman.
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