The Billionaire Daddy. Renee Roszel
welt.
Earlier that afternoon, while Tina napped, Lauren had swept her hair up off her neck with a big clip. Now she regretted the action for two reasons. First, it had made it easier for a wasp to sting her neck, which brought on the second, and most troubling regret—Dade Delacourte’s fingers gently brushed sensitive skin as he smoothed warm paste on the wound.
Dade’s touch sent shivers of appreciation along Lauren’s spine. She supposed playboys had to cultivate a seductive touch or they wouldn’t be successful at—playing. She recognized the sad irony, but wasn’t in the mood for ironic life lessons at the moment. She chewed her lower lip, her emotions in conflict. She wanted his hand off her, but a niggling part of her brain wouldn’t allow her to jerk away.
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