Thirteen
Bryn padded out of the bathroom in her stocking feet. She kept her eyes down, looking for her boots in the semi-dark so she wouldn’t look at the bed where Dewey lay sleeping. She’d slept about two hours last night, but she didn’t feel tired. She felt delicious. There’d been one moment of panic after he’d carried her over her threshold and set her on her feet when she’d told him, “I’ve never—”
“Neither have I,” Dewey had interrupted. His hand brushing her cheek had been trembling, igniting an answering quiver in her mid-section.
“Never?” She knew why she hadn’t. At first there’d been the drive to succeed, then she’d fallen for a guy who presented himself in cyberspace. Once she thought about it, though, it didn’t surprise her. He’d told her last night that his first love was bro
