“How sweet.” Dutch remarked, his calloused hands caressing your side. Fingertips ran over his cheek, your palm resting upon the junction between his jaw and shoulder. You spoiled the man with your touch, plumes of smoke from his cigar filling the tent.

“You treat bad men so well.” His voice dragged in a teasing manner, a shit-eating smirk plastered on his lips.

A manipulator never looked better.