“I hate it, honestly,” he said. Whew. Fingers on the buttons. Keep it together, Stacy. He screwed up his face in displeasure. “All that lip and tongue. I would’ve said something before, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” He counted squares on the ceiling. Five across, five back. Five times five was twenty five. If she ran her palms over his chest, he’d need more than a few inches of space for the holy spirit.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2013-09-24 08:20 pm (UTC)