You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I was going to kill him. Memories from four months ago came flooding back, and I remembered the heat in his gaze as he watched me dance on my stool to this very song. How he’d whispered the filthiest things in my ear and got me to drop my guard for what was supposed to be one night of the most mind-blowing sex either of us had had. And then I remembered the pain and embarrassment of waking up the following day to find him sitting in a chair in the corner of his room, watching me sleep like he was afraid he’d committed a crime. Well, fuck that.
