“Don’t you make that face at me, boyo.”
“Boyo?” He asked before he jokingly waved his hand at her.
She pounced on him, tickling again.
“Bloody hell Summer!” He cried indignantly.
“Yes, Victor darling?” There was her purr again.
Victor hummed contentedly.
She started to sweep her fingers over his face, tracing over the lines and dips, eyes halflidded. “I love your eyes … it’s such a perfect clarity of colour.”