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I was going to be one of those crazy ladies with fifty cats, a recliner, and a coupon addiction. Except my cats were going to be books. Books were way less stinky than cats.
“My entire life…” I said, pausing to drag in some air, “is a complete disaster.” “You have me.”
“That makes me really happy, Freckles.” I blinked. “It does?” He nodded slowly. “The thought of anyone else’s hands on you drives me insane. Now I get to be your first. And your last.”
“I just want to explore you. I want to really see you. We’ll leave our bottoms on, okay?” “It’s no fair,” I said. He looked at me with a quizzical look in his eyes and tilted his head to the side. “You get to touch me, but I can’t touch you.” His smile was slow and sly. “Good. I don’t want to share this moment. Not even with you. I’m going to be purely selfish right now, Katie. I’ve been longing to touch you like this since that first night you stayed here. This is my turn. Your turn can wait.”
He was looking at me with a sort of awe in his eyes that made me feel silly for ever thinking I wouldn’t be anything but beautiful in his eyes.
But when the cops knock, you answer. Unless, of course, you’re a criminal. Then you probably run out the back door.
Three telephone books. That’s how many he had to pile on the seat so I could see over the dashboard.
“Have you ever wanted something so badly that you could barely see?” I whispered. “Every single day since you walked into this house.”
He looked like a little boy who was excited for Christmas morning, or a rat who’d outsmarted a trap and ran away with the cheese.
“I thought fire fighters were supposed to put out fires, not make them,” I said when he lifted his head. He smiled. “Get used to the heat, sweetheart, because this is one flame I’m never putting out.”