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but she follows me around like Andi in The Devil Wears Prada.
An orgasm or two would be nice, my inner sex fiend whispers. The inner sex fiend who hasn’t been satisfied in much, much too long.
At that moment, I make my decision. I’m going to keep her. I’m going to keep this woman. Fuck her matching me up.
“Well, I’m a rule breaker, sweetheart. You’re gonna learn that. I’m taking you home.”
Which it does not matter. He is a client. Then why does the thought of matching him make you queasy? my sex fiend asks, a curious smirk on her face.
If only I wasn’t so damaged and could set aside the inevitable heartbreak and let myself enjoy this. Enjoy him.
might want to hear you say it again in a much more comfortable setting.
never in a million years would have pictured saying this to me. I bite my lip as the center of my panties grows suspiciously damn.
“She’s it.” I feel dumb saying it out loud, but it’s… it’s the truth. Cassandra is what my mom was to my dad. I’ve fought the knowledge for a week, feeling crazy all the same.
“You might know red flags, but I know green ones. And this man is a fuckin’ leprechaun.”
“So you really are a momma’s boy, huh?”
Although we haven’t been together long, if at all formally, being without her for those four days? Not something I want to relive. Something about having Cassandra Reynolds in my arms, safe and sound, and looking to me to keep her that way? It’s a feeling I’ll fight to have for a long time coming.
“Local matchmaker gets railed by tow truck driver on the side of the road, more details inside.”
