“Am I interrupting?” Her slender fingers traced along the delicate neckline of the dress.
“Looking like that, you can interrupt my funeral. I would surely rise from the dead just to have a better look,” Fenrir’s voice got huskier than usual as his gaze traced her every curve.
“Oh, you mean this old thing?” She giggled, curling her lips and stepping closer.
Fenrir threw the hose he had in his hand away, and it began curling and twisting, spraying glimmering droplets of water in all directions. Under the dull light of the lamps inside the greenhouse, they seemed like cascades of diamonds falling on their heads.
Laughter erupted from Astrea, but Fenrir remained calm, his eyes not leaving the beautiful woman in front of him, even for a fraction of a second.
“You totally did this on purpos
