She blushed and laughed, warmed by the compliment and his touch. “You are biased, I’m not beautiful. I aspire to striking, one day.”
”How am I biased?” Mordred questions with a laugh. “I call it as I see it and you are beautiful.”
Summer slid down next to him with a kiss. “You love me,” she murmured, “that makes you biased. I don’t believe you think I have any flaws at all. Convince me, persuade me how I am beautiful.”