“Wow,” she breathes, struck by the view. She stops and stares. “Why the hell do you have your coffee downstairs with a view like that?” I watch her as she admires the scenery—the slender column of her neck, the sharp angle of her jaw, dainty ear adorned with an understated gold stud. Summer is all class. All shiny and proper and well-educated. It’s fucking hot. It also makes me want to dirty her up a bit. “The view downstairs has been better lately.”
