I was too distracted by his chest and his stomach to pay much attention to his forearms, but I can’t stop staring at them now. What’s fucking wrong with me? All this time, I’ve been so careful, been so diligent not to screw up and let anything slip, but Wren Jacobi’s about to uncover my biggest, most damning secret, and I’m sitting here marveling at Dash’s forearms? I’m sick. I’m depraved. I’m categorically, absolutely, positively boned. If I can’t get my shit together, my whole life is going to unravel, and it won’t be some majestic, impressive unraveling. It’ll be one solitary thread,
...more
