Daxton 

Verena retrieved a frosted ombré cake from the fridge, flopping on the couch beside me. “You said you didn’t want one so don’t ask for mine,” she stabbed the fork into the cake. 

I stifled the chuckle that almost left my mouth as amusement landed on my brain. “I can’t remember asking for it. You’ve been the one shoving it down my throat,”

She slashed me a look that almost made me burst out laughing before she scooped some in her mouth and moaned sweetly. “This is so good. Sure you don’t want some?” Verena popped one eye out. 

Suddenly, she set the plate on the table, dropping her...