She smelled good.
She felt good.
Jesus Christ, she even sounded good.
I moved before I could stop myself.
I wanted to talk to her, question her, lecture her, but my mouth was on hers.
Lecturing would wait.
MULTIPLEWITNESSES FOR THEPROSECUTIONMISSING
On Monday, the prosecution against Quinn Callas found themselves shorthanded when multiple witnesses did not show up for their testimony. The district attorney says investigations have been opened as to the whereabouts of each witness.
A GoFundMe page has been established to help support Quinn Callas’s defense team. Sources say she “didn’t fight her divorce to Peter Francis, leaving her with almost nothing.”
—Inside Daily Press
THIRTY-ONE
Bailey
“We need to talk,” he said as he came out of the bathroom.
God.
He was wearing track pants that fell low on his hips, and the rest of him was shirtless and barefoot. That body, those muscles. I could glide my hand over every dip and valley of his body and I’d never get enough. He had the V leading under his pants, and when he turned around, which he was doing as he was reaching for a shirt, I saw the back dimples, too.
Back dimples.
Time apart had made me an obsessed woman.
His words came to me, and I lay back down, closing my eyes. “I don’t want to talk.”
We had gone on a normal date, or normal for us, the last time I saw him.
I missed that. Making out in a movie theater. I wanted to do that again.
“Do you know anyone who had a normal childhood?” I sat up and scooted back to rest against the headboard.
Kash threw me a small frown. Henley in place, he was putting on socks and shoes. “Normal? Define ‘normal.’”
“Two parents. Middle class. A home.”
“That’s your problem. I don’t think we have normalcy anymore. I don’t know anyone who had that andonlythat. Why are you asking?” He stood, coming to stand beside me. I expected him to sit on the bed, but he didn’t. He remained standing, his head tilted to the side, and those eyes studying every angle of me.
I didn’t know how to say it so I just waved my hand at him.
He frowned. “What?”
“I don’t know.” I lied. I did know, so I started to scramble off the bed.
He caught my hand as I did and pulled me back to him. “Hey.”
God. I closed my eyes. He said that word so soft and quiet. It felt like a whole other caress from him, and he doubled down. His hand came up and he trailed a finger down the side of my face, lingering over my mouth, and then falling to my throat.
He murmured, so soft again. “What is it?”