She’d set herself up to fail. On purpose. In the most basic way a woman can. I shaved my bikini line and wore my best underwear.
Crushes weren’t made of quick and dirty; they were made of romance and fantasies. What would she do if he called her bluff?
Unease stole through her, and she shivered. Now that the moment had arrived, she was nervous. Damn it, this never happens in my fantasies.
Naked. Waiting. Go.
You want me to make you, remember? I want to make you.
Until that night, she’d categorized multiple orgasms with unicorns, the Holy Grail, and free parking.
He picked the one Cinderella on earth who would smash the glass slipper and cut off a few toes to keep Prince Charming from finding her.
Let’s dispense with the preliminary round of ‘will we or won’t we’ so we can get down to the when will we.