"Water?" Dalton''s gaze shifted downward, his eyes settling on Wynter''s long hair. His voice was alluring and low. "Why are your ears red when you just want to get a drink?"


    Wynter''s fingers paused in midair. "It''s hot."


    "Hot?" Dalton raised an eyebrow. "It''s 70°F. How is that hot?"


    Wynter considered snapping at him for his incessant questioning. She wanted to tell him that it was all his fault for doing all that stuff in her dreams and making her overthink. After all, his striking appearance didn''t excuse his behavior nor the bondage she had experienced in her dream.@@novelbin@@


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