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“Are you okay, Miss Cheyenne?” Mariah blinked at me. “You’re, like, breathing really hard.” “Um. I’m fine. I was just . . . thinking about something.” Before I could stop myself, I fucking glanced at Cole’s crotch. And he saw me do it.
“Your body is fucking perfect, Cheyenne.” I swear to God, those words came out of his mouth. My jaw fell open. His face went red. “Fuck. Sorry.” “For what? It was a compliment.” “Men shouldn’t comment on women’s bodies.”
I grinned and typed another message I’d never send. Would you cuff me? Throw me in the back of your car? Get rough with me?
“Apparently. Tomorrow I’ll be pregnant because we washed dishes together after dark.” “Wow. Guess I should have worn the rubber gloves.” She snort-laughed. “Right.” “Good thing they don’t know about the phone call last night.”
If I was going to be sorry on the other side of this kiss, I didn’t fucking care. I wanted this. I needed this. I needed her.
