Jessamae rolls her eyes in exasperation. The derogatory terms he often uses to address her seem to have made a reappearance. "Quite a taskmaster, aren't you?"
"I don't recall requesting your opinion," Hanzon retorts sharply. "Now would be an appropriate time to practice silence."
Undeterred, Jessamae positions her hands defiantly on her hips, countering, "Your mouth could use a good scrubbing with soap, Mister."
"Carry on with your defiance, and you will find more than words filling your mouth," he sneers, a victorious glint playing in his eyes. The memory of his distinctive taste, akin to a salty sea breeze, washes over her. The irresistible temptation.
"Insufferable brute," Jessamae mutters under her breath, her voice now reduced to a raspy whisper, a testament to her mounting desire
