But I’m not.
I’m a greedy bastard who needs to know everything there is about her. And if she’s not yet forthcoming… Then my quest is not over yet.
“Oh, Marlowe.” She chuckles. “Depending on who you ask, I’m perhaps the baddest.”
“Worst,” I correct.
“Baddest,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I’m so bad, I need to add four more letters to the word to emphasize how bad I am.”
I raise a brow at her. But then I laugh when I realize she’s joking.
We both laugh until she suddenly stops. She shakes her head and sighs.
“I didn’t put a spell on you, all right? I was actually surprised when you didn’t find me irresistible from the first time you saw me. It was…refreshing.” She smiles. But then she leans forward, her eyes on mine. “If you find me irresistible now, it’s all on you. There’s nothing supernatural about it. You want me.”
“Is that so?” I croak.
“You want me,” she repeats. “You said so yourself. Even if you claim you only want to sleep with me, I suppose that’s all right too. Because I know that deep down, you care for me.”
“You’re that sure, eh?”
“Yes. I’m very sure. It’s why I’ve chosen you to be my bonded male.”
“And here I thought it was my good looks and my money.”
“I suppose those come secondary, as long as you buy me cookies, which you haven’t done in one day. You’re slacking, Marlowe! Soon, people will realize that I’m not a gold plower and my reputation will be destroyed.” She feigns a scandalized expression.
I smile and shake my head.
“I think you mean gold digger,” I add, amused.
“Same thing. Don’t change the subject. I require my daily tribute, preferably in boxes of a dozen of each flavor.”
“Forgive me, your highness. It is awfully bad of me to have forgotten to pay my tribute. I’ll rectify that right away. How many flavors do you require?”
“I suppose I can be satisfied with three,” she answers pensively.
“Thirty-six cookies? My, for a tiny thing, you surely can eat a lot.”
“Of course,” she quips, patting her belly. “There’s always room in here for your daily tribute.”
I stare at her stomach. Then swallow hard. I don’t think she realizes where my thoughts are straying in this moment, or the fact that I’m thinking of an entirely different tribute that would fit inside of her.
Fucking hell.
I move uncomfortably in my seat in an attempt to keep the lust at bay.
Minnie, though, is oblivious as she continues to chat away about her favorite cookie flavors.
“Right. Let’s go buy cookies,” I declare. Anything to help me take my mind off the many ways in which I could fill her up with other things.
She beams at me.
As we drive, she appears deep in thought for moments on end. Eventually, she speaks.
“You’re a very nice man, Marlowe.” She pauses. “For a killer.”
“I’ll have you know I have a moral compass too,” I interject. “I don’t?—”