When Des didn’t respond, Tiffany reached her hand toward his bare chest, intent on caressing him. She cooed softly, “Oooh, do you wax your chest? I love a man who isn’t afraid of a little manscaping…”
He grabbed the offending hand at the wrist before she could make contact, tight enough to make her yelp. “I don’t see how that is any of your business. You are not my mate.”
Tiffany stared at him, her lips parting slightly in shock. Then, her expression hardened, and her eyes flashed with anger as she yanked her wrist free of him. “You’re one of those, then?”
“One of those…what?” Desmond inquired, lifting an eyebrow at her expectantly.
“A true believer. You really think the mate bond is the end all be all, don’t you?” Tiffany snorted, and rolled her eyes as if the goddess’s greatest gift
