The Runaway Breeder
His eyes slowly darken with my word while his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer to his solid body.
"It sounds like we will need more chocolate then." Is his comeback, his voice low and husky when it enters my ear. I giggle and step away from him, grabbing more milk chocolate and cookies and cream bars, my mind racing on what we could do with the sweet substance. With a childish grin on my face, we head over to my favourite aisle, the ice-cream aisle. I select a tub of Chapman’s French Vanilla and Mint Chocolate Chip laughing when Tate places a Neapolitan ice cream into the cart, commenting that mixing the three flavours together is ‘The bomb dot com babe.’
Bab Populer