“He called you his girl.” “Does that bother you?” My eyes dip to her lips as my fingers curl around her waist. Pink and parted, demanding to be kissed. Tensing my jaw, I admit, “Yeah, it does.” “Why?” she probes gently. Fuck. She wants to talk about my feelings, while all I want to do is claw them out of me. I drop my forehead to hers, closing my eyes through a ragged exhale. “Because… I remember every noise you made that night, every breath you took, the way your body trembled and swayed, molding into mine like it was designed that way,” I confess, the words spilling out of me like a pathetic
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