70 Days With The Wrong Billionaire
“Because I know Noah didn’t suffer himself by only having one taste. Scratch that, multiple tastes. With those long legs, that perky ass, and those perfect tits? Babe, I’d do you if I swung that way.”
I press a hand to my face, grateful she can’t see my face right now. “Daisy!”
“What? You’re totally red right now, aren’t you? Is it because of my words or because of a particular someone?” She laughs, obviously picturing my reaction.
“Nothing happened,” I reply quickly, even as flashes of Noah’s mouth on my skin, his fingers, his voice growling filthy praise against my ear, invade my mind.
“Yeah, right,” Daisy replies, half-laughing.
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