“You’ve let other guys in your bed?” I question with the rise of my brows. Anger burns my muscles as I imagine the losers she’s been with, all fucking her, all older. Don’t think about it. “Not lately.” Her oversized sweater snags on the handle behind her, almost flashing me. “Oops.” My body heats, and the only thing that stops any kind of arousal is the idea of another strange guy getting hard at the sight of her. I don’t want to be one of them. She adjusts her shirt, and I read the words stitched on her chest: Ooh la la. I think it’s been about a year since she started choosing clothes with
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he gets so jealous and protective omg
