Thief of Hearts
“Stu had dragged me into the storage cupboard at the college again, only this time he used his hands to bring me to orgasm.
I sat up in bed, grumpily flicking on my lap and checking the time on my alarm clock. 3:47 a.m. I was going to murder my cousin.
“What do you want, Alfie?” I called. “I can’t even think about how early it is right now.”
There was a pause and the sound of him hopping nervously from foot to foot. “Well, technically you could say it’s late rather than early . . .” he said sheepishly as I climbed out of bed and threw open the door. I was so tired I could only manage to open one eye.
“Just spit it out,” I said crankily.
Alfie was practically buzzing with energy as he blurted. “I finished it. It’s done.”
“Finished?”
“The painting. Stu’s painting. It’s finished, and Andie, oh my God, it’s .
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