He saunters to the door, locks it, and turns off the overhead light. His study lamp casts a long, moody light over the room, changing the atmosphere from almost clinical to sultry in the blink of an eye. “You don’t need to do that,” I start but falter when I hear how affected I sound. I change course, attempting to deflect with humor. “I’m kind of a sure thing.” A Pretty Woman quote? Jesus Christ.
LMAO
