“Maybe they’re getting some bow-chicka-pow-wow.”
I looked at him. “Ew.”
He flashed his teeth. “She’s definitely not my type.” His gaze dropped to my lips, and parts of me quivered in response to the heat in his gaze. “But now I totally have that on my mind.”
I was breathless. “You’re a dog.”
“If you pet me, I’ll—“
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” I said, fighting a grin.”