7
“No one has ever, in the history of my life, spoken to me like that,” Nancy reminisced sleepily. She’d gotten out of the shower and wore a fluffy white robe, suspiciously devoid of owls. She joined Wyatt at the island where he was forcing himself to eat a bowl of pathetic salad.
He’d cleaned off the best he could using the kitchen sink, needing to avoid being trapped in a small glass cage with her n***d body. A n***d body he could still see in his mind.
“Wyatt?”
He blinked and met her teasing stare. “I heard. I wasn’t sure what you meant.”
“The dirty stuff.”
His brow furrowed as he thought back. “I don’t remember saying anything particularly dirty.”
“I suppose it wasn’t a lot, but it was more than I’ve ever heard. I’ve never been told I was going to be… you know. Stretched by a ma
