‘You know I think you’re hot too,’ she says, her tone awkward. ‘I mean, obviously.’ I smile at her, and she laughs. ‘What?’ I ask. She shakes her head like she’s embarrassed. ‘I dunno. It’s just—yeah, I had a thing for you at work. You know, the hot, quiet type. The challenge. But I didn’t honestly think you’d be straddling me in my bedroom on a Sunday afternoon.’ I lean forward so I can brush my palms over the satiny skin of her stomach as I consider what she said. ‘I know. Neither did I.’
