She ground her teeth, opened the door, and glared at the culprit. "Look! What am I supposed to do now? My neck is covered in your masterpieces! How am I supposed to go out in public?"
'It's all over. The gig is up.'
Sean Quinn glanced over, feeling a little guilty. First thing in the morning, he had already applied ointment to the places he'd marked up. Unfortunately, no matter how effective it was, the ointment couldn't work instantly. In fact, things were already much better than they had been this morning—back then, he had really panicked.
But in the end, he was the one who did it. He couldn't escape the consequences.
So, he cleared his throat. "Next time I... I'll remember not to bite your neck..." But the corners of his lips curved up slightly.
"There's a next time?" Utterly mortified, she gritted her teeth and yelled.
