I laughed at him lightly, liking the unfamiliar tone to his voice. “You did invite me,” I reminded him playfully, while squinting at him with pure happiness. “Or don’t you remember?”
He tightened his lips, letting his eyes fixate on my kiss-swollen lips in an unnerving manner.
“Are we ever going to eat dinner, Damian?”
“You’re the Little Red Riding Hood,” he uttered in a deep tenor. “You are my dinner.”
I bit my lip at him, unsure if I liked the way he was looking at me right now. Why do I get the sense that what Damian said is true?
“I’m not edible,” I teased after I bit my lip at him.
“I disagree.”