Tacos." "Tacos?" I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. "Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese." "I know what a taco is!

I don't have a car." His eyes sliced into mine. "I walked here," I explained. "I'm on foot." "Angel," he said in a way that sounded like he sincerely hoped I was joking.

I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked. “I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house! “Tacos?” “Tacos?” I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.” “I know what a taco is!

Based on past experience, I hope not.

He brushed my curls back off my face. “I never pictured my life so complete. I never thought I’d have everything I want. You’re everything to me, Angel.

We touched base at several strategic locations down our bodies, and it took all my willpower to break away.

I'm a private contractor now. I choose my clients, not the other way around.