Daxton
I didn’t mean to check but I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering to what Verena had scribbled in her journal. She wrote about how she had to cancel her ticket and would go to the football game when she was granted leave.
Why wait for a leave when we could f*****g leave together?
Verena’s hair was slicked back into a bun that rested at the nape of her neck while she took a big bite of her burger.
And me? All I did was gawk over her, mesmerized with the way she chewed, the way her throat worked, and how much of a stunner she was.
As if she noticed my eyes on her, her gaze lifted to mine. “You hate the food?” She tilted her head, squinting her eyes at me. “Don’t tell me that you do because this is the best burger you could get in Times Square. I have never left this place with
