NICK
T
he smirk
that plastered across my face refused to die as I held Hannah to my side and fiddled on my laptop with my free hand. She held my leg with all four of her limbs, her head resting on my thigh, and with each deep, steady breath her small breasts pressed against my skin.
I could get used to this. The thought struck a chord in me, and I reached to stroke Hannah’s golden mane. I understood why James was having trouble letting her go; she was a homey girl, and just being around her made me want to cement myself to this bed. Moseying around through my e-mails, my brows came together sharply as I considered my next steps.
Hannah wanted freedom- from her parents, James, or something else, I couldn’t tell, but I would find out eventually. She just wanted someone to love her, or t
