“I need a shower,” she pronounced, then looked at me from under her lashes.
“God, those filthy eyes. You could probably be arrested for that look. Pervert.”
She said casually, “Well, since we’re doing a s*x weekend before we go back to real life, I might as well make the most of it, right?”
Inside my head was the sound a freight train makes when it slams on its brakes, then topples off the tracks, spilling its load of munitions and poison gas, which promptly explode in an enormous orange ball of flame, scorching the earth and destroying all life in a fifty-mile radius.
Clearly for Bianca, this wasn’t the start of something deeper between us. This was the itch that needed to be scratched before it could be forgotten. This was the annoying, tickling pressure that had built to the point w
