I can’t keep from wishing it wasn’t her across the table. Her hair is silky and smooth, a beautiful brown any man would kill to sink their fingers into. But I’d rather see it tangled and black. Her eyes are soft and open, serene, like dipping in calm water on a sunny day. But I ache to feel them raging like a storm. And when she throws back her head and laughs, my mind wonders what it would sound like coming from someone else’s pouty lips.
