Sexting Curves

Начало книги

Major Logan Jones opened the front door of his three-bedroom ranch before I landed my first knock. Surprised, I glanced at my watch. "I'm not late, am I?"

The major is very particular about people being on time. After five plus years of babysitting his son Stevie, I still had a clean record. Working a summer job at a downtown office, however, meant that I had been cutting it close all summer long.

"No, I heard you pull up." Taking a step back, he opened the door wider and motioned me inside.

I passed him in the hall, my thick hips and the narrow space conspiring to force the brief rub of my body against his. A familiar heat flared along the surface of my skin. My nipples puckered, the sensation triggering an outbreak of goose bumps and wet need.

Continuing down the hall, I rubbed at my arms, hoping my body would behave before the major noticed his effect on me. Not that he ever has — I've been nursing a crush on him since I started babysitting Stevie over five years ago. He has remained blissfully ignorant even when my body's reaction to him kicked into high gear after Mrs. Jones ran off to parts unknown in search of her "true self."

Читать дальше →