His finger flicked open a button on my cardigan-then two, three, four. It tumbled off my shoulders, leaving me in my camisole. He pushed up the hem, teasing and stroking his thumb across my stomach. My breath came in a sharp intake of air.
Becca FitzpatrickThe older woman waiting for admittance looked at me, then over her shoulder at Patch, who was vanishing down the hall. โHoney,โ she told me, โhe looks slippery as soap.
Becca FitzpatrickAnd anyway, the first three letters in the word diet should tell you what I want it to do.
Becca Fitzpatrick