I was sprawled on my couch, half-drunk on the cheap red wine I bought from a convenience store, legs thrown over the armrest, when the notification appeared across my screen.
@sinnernextdoor:
That little black dress in your story should be f*****g illegal.
How am I supposed to sleep knowing you look that edible?
My pulse stuttered. His profile was almost blank, just a black-and-white photo of a tattooed hand wrapped around a whiskey glass, no face, no name, no location. It's like pure danger.
I bit my lip and typed back.
Me:
Careful, stranger. Some girls bite.
@sinnernextdoor:
Hope that’s a promise, Kiera.
He’d used my real name, not my handle. That single word sent heat flooding straight between my thighs.
Me:
Depends how good you are with your words.
@sinnernextdoor:
I’m be
