A large part of me wishes I’d never flown to Seattle, never laid eyes on Easton, never raced after him out of that bar, and got into his truck. That I didn’t know the feel of his hands, the pull of his scent, the warmth that emanates from him. That I’d never got lost in his blazing kisses, or discovered the intensity of our chemistry, or felt the weight of his body on top of mine. I wish I’d never become privy to the intensity of his lovemaking, the mind-blowing feel of his thrusts and the rippling of ecstasy that follows.
