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Frankie smiled at the way his brown eyes drifted over her face, warm and possessive. Her wolf basked in that possessiveness. It wasn’t an emotion that was constricting or hurtful; it made her feel safe and cosseted. “And I love you.” She kissed him, licking at his tongue and sipping from his mouth. “Did you actually finish your sketch?”

“Yep.”

“I want to see.” She leaned into him when he slid an arm around her waist and then guided her to the chair where he’d left his pad. As she got a good look at his sketch, she smiled. “Hey, that’s really good.” He’d somehow captured her energy. He’d even mastered the intense “Don’t bother me” expression she subconsciously wore when working. She could see his confidence in each of those strokes and the clever use of shade.

Handing him the pad, she said, “I’m seriously impressed.”

“Thank you.” He dabbed a kiss on her mouth. “You done for the day?”

She glanced at the sculpture. “I have a little more to do, but I could really use a shower right now.”

His voice dropped an octave as he said, “A shower sounds good.”

Hearing the sexual intention there, she frowned. “You had me this morning, and then again just now.”

“Yes. And?”

Frankie just shook her head. “I’m still a little sore, so you’ll have to wait until later.”

Trick pursed his lips. Wait? Nah. At the very least, he’d eat her out in the shower. But he didn’t say that. “I can wait. But I’m getting back in that pussy tonight.”

She snapped her teeth. He was such a bossy bastard. And totally spoiled. “Fine. But tonight, instead of you taking over, can we do what I want to do?”

“It depends on what you want to do.”

“Well, if it ‘depends,’ we’re not doing what I want to do because you’re in control of what happens.”

“It’s good that you get that. It’s like one mind.”

She splayed her palm over his face and turned away. “You’re not here. You’re really not. I don’t know why I let you sketch me.”

Chuckling, Trick grabbed her hand. “It was only fair that you let me sketch you, since you started working on a sculpture of my head.” He’d seen it tucked under one of her benches.

Frankie narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know about that?”

“A little bird told me.”

“Well, since I don’t have a parrot that could sell me out, I’m guessing that you’re lying.”

“Oh my God. It’s just a turn of phrase.”

“It’s a proverb, and they’re dumb.”

He sighed. “You’re always going to make me crazy, aren’t you?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

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