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84. OLD FRIEND

HANA

"Don't you dare?" I warned him.

Bash snickered at me and continued doing his very annoying job, measuring my body with his hand.

"Three," He cheered, pressing his thumb between the valley of my breasts, eliciting a shaky breath from my body. "Four," He says, his thumb pressing my belly button.

I smacked his hand away, making him chuckle. He moved my top aside despite my attempts to get his hand away from my skin. His touch, warm and safe spread across my waist. I sucked a breath, momentarily closing my eyes before I was reminded of what had happened.

"You refused me," I snapped, turning my head to glare at him.

The way Bash propped himself upon his elbow, his head resting on his palm as he casually slid his hand across my waist carefully so that he wouldn't touch the bruise on my side made me feel fuzzy inside. The butterflies came alive.

"You refused me," I murmured, pouting at the ceiling. When was the last time I pouted? Never. Bash sure
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