If you’d asked me before how I felt about Ashley Acrea, I’d have told you I didn’t feel for her at all, but she had a nice body and could suck a mean d**k.
But now, as I stared at the leggy brunette sitting with her legs crossed on my desk, I was picking apart her every feature. Her hair wasn’t as silky as Evelyn’s. Her legs, while long and soft, weren’t the pale and smooth alabaster that Evelyn’s were. Her blue eyes were nothing compared to the golden irises I’d just been looking into earlier.
I wasn’t sure why I did it. It wasn’t like I wanted to do it— maybe I was trying to prove a point. Maybe I was trying to prove that I was still the careless, emotionless murderer I had been before I met her. Maybe I was trying to convince myself that she wasn’t everything I’d ever wanted. It was
