Julia
If men were supposed to reach their s****l peak at eighteen, I couldn't imagine what Van had been like then. After a marathon session of incredible line-blurring s*x, including but not limited to the rug, the sofa—over the arm of the sofa to be more precise, against the large windows, and with me balanced on the dining room table, we claimed satiation and exhaustion. As I stood on wobbly knees with evidence of our evening activities on my skin, Van slipped on his boxer briefs and handed me his flannel shirt with the sexiest damn grin.
“I like you wearing that."
As I put my arms through the arm holes, I lingered, taking in the scent of his cologne and the softness of the material. “I like wearing it."
Reaching for my clothes, I felt the warmth in my cheeks. “So...I guess this is
