“You know what, though?” “What?” My voice was petulant. He put his lips right to my ear; his cold breath tickled. “I prefer brunettes.” “She’s a blonde. That figures.” “Strawberry blonde–not at all my type.” I thought about that for a while, trying to concentrate as his lips
moved slowly along my cheek, down my throat, and back up again. He made
the circuit three times before I spoke. “I guess that’s okay, then,” I decided. “Hmm,” he whispered against my skin. “You’re quite adorable when you’re jealous. It’s surprisingly enjoyable.” I scowled into the darkness.