Dylan’s smile was slow and sensual, igniting the embers of their earlier lovemaking. “Darlin’, they’d walk on water if you’ll cook more than dinner for them. Trust me.” Looking up at the man riding beside her, she acknowledged the gift for what it was: a sign that she hadn’t made a mistake in trusting her body to the man, and now taking it one step further and trusting him with a bit more of herself. “I think I will.” He let his gaze slide to hers before focusing on the road before them. Rather than respond verbally, he grunted. “What’s that supposed to signify?” He snickered. “Lord above, now you sound like Veronica instead of Ronnie, using fancy words when just plain English will do.” “But I got more than a grunt out of you,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “Just adds icing to the cake, darlin’.”
