"Laz, where are we going?" Frida asked as he guided her into the jet.
"No questions, Frida... it's a surprise," he replied, turning to her with gleaming grey eyes.
She hugged him from behind, her voice teasing. "But I don't want a surprise... I want to stay in bed with you."
Giving him puppy eyes, she sent a wave of electricity straight to his core.
"No touching," he said firmly, placing her in the seat opposite his.
She folded her arms, pouting. "But I want to touch you."
He groaned, his patience thinning. "Frida."
"And I want to kiss you," she added with a sly grin.
His insides practically turned to butter.
"And I want to do really bad things to you," she confessed, her wide eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Yes, but it's your birthday. You just want to spend it... fucking?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yes," she said matter-of-factly, her gaze unwavering.
He turned to stare out the window, arms folded. "But I think you deserve better," he mumbled, clearly flustered.
