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.”
I nervously laughed at him, noticing how focused his gaze was on my lips still. Damian cut off my laughter by suddenly slipping an arm around the back of my neck, bringing me forward to
