I look up and meet his eyes. I want to scratch them out. And then spit in his face. And then curse him for being exactly what I thought he was.
A bad boy.
A playboy.
A heartbreaker.
But I also want to kiss him. And let him carry me up to the private room above us and put an end to the dull ache of desire that’s been plaguing me since the first night we met when I pulled his shirt over his head.
Dammit!

Autore: M. Leighton