Ten seconds passed between when Daemon Black took his seat and when he poked me under my shoulder blade with his trusty pen. Ten whole seconds. Twisting around in my seat, I inhaled the unique outdoorsy scent that was all him.
Daemon pulled his hand back and tapped the blue cap of his pen on the corner of his lips. Lips I was well familiar with. "Good morning, Kitten."
I forced my gaze to his eyes. Bright green, like the stem of a freshly cut rose. "Good morning, Daemon."
Unruly dark hair fell over his forehead as he tilted his...