Phoebe's POV
I'd always been good at reading people. The shift in Harold's energy hit me immediately.
But no matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn't pinpoint who had rattled him, so I decided to dig deeper.
Harold pressed his face into my neck, his breath warm against the tender skin where evidence of last night's passion still bloomed.
Those marks were just like his devotion to me—burning so fierce that nothing could rival it, nothing could block its path.
"No. I just missed you," he murmured against my collarbone. His voice carried that rough edge that made my pulse quicken.
Sure, it could've been desire talking, but I knew Harold was keeping secrets.
My gut screamed it was something major—something that involved me.
"Sweetheart, you know how much I hate being lied to. The payback is brutal... absolutely brutal..." I grinned and arched my neck back, offering him complete access like I was daring him to take what he wanted.
