"Take your time, mommy. Me and Nadia aren't going anywhere. Right, Nadia?"
Artis drawled, his smirk sharper than a blade.
That damn smirk.
Nadia's glare could've fried an egg—or maybe that was just her jealousy simmering at full boil.
Sure, she looked annoyed, but deep down, she was stewing because she wasn't the one down there choking on his oversized "vegetable."
Her mood soured further when Artis's hand casually wandered to Juliana's thigh, like it had all the time in the world.
He tapped it twice, and Juliana obediently lifted her leg onto her chair, spreading herself wider than a yoga instructor mid-sun salutation.
And then—oh, he was a bastard—Artis locked eyes with Nadia, ensuring she didn't miss a single second.
Slowly, theatrically, he licked two of his fingers, the sound wet and obscene. The glisten of his saliva caught the light as his hand disappeared beneath Juliana's robe.
