““I don’t.” I crossed his bedroom and flopped down on his giant bed, pressing my face into his silky pale blue bedspread.He ignored me. “Should we do it in the bathroom? It might get…messy.”Lifting my head, I turned around and glared at him. “Did you hear me? I said I don’t want to do this.”“Too bad.” He took off his jacket and lifted his shirt over his head, throwing them on the bed. I watched him flit in and out of the room, coming back with a stack of towels and a bottle of tequila. He paused... and took a long swig from the bottle, wincing as he swallowed it. Great, he’s gotta be drunk in order to do this. Super encouraging, babe.It made sense, though. Probably wouldn’t hurt as much…Hell, who was I kidding? There was no “taking the edge off” when it came to someone ripping you apart with their teeth. And Thomas was going to be in for a hell of a surprise if he thought that he could.I’m not doing it. I don’t care what he says.I pulled back the covers and climbed under. Thomas peered out from the bathroom.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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