‘My shoe is though,’ she said, waggling her right foot at him. ‘One foot is half a size bigger than the other.’ He looked at her as though she were mad—she probably was.
‘You need to drink some more water.’
Abby clenched her teeth at his order.
‘Thanks.’ She got the water bottle as far as her lips before something distracted her. A memory, perhaps.
Zain watched her eyes glaze as she stared, unfocused, into the distance. He was ready to catch the bottle when it slipped from her fingers.
The cynic in him wanted to believe her vulnerability was feigned as she blinked up at him like a baby owl, but he knew it wasn’t.
‘An imagination can be a curse.’ His terse delivery hid the reluctant sympathy he felt.
Abby nodded and looked away, patting the damp spot where water had spilled, soaking a patch of her top before pooling in her cleavage. The action drew Zain’s gaze and kick-started his own distracting imagination.
A curse, maybe. Painful, definitely.
He breathed his way through a bolt of mind-numbing molten lust—not so easy when in his head his hands were weighing those tight, high breasts and he was bending his head to taste the berry sweetness of the nipples.
‘Your bite is infected...’