Brad got out of the shower, expecting a dozen more texts from Celeste outlining a few more rules she’d like to see for their relationship.
The letters had jumbled, but he’d been able to put them together after a few minutes. Didn’t mean her rules made sense.
He conjured up the beautiful blonde in his mind as he shaved. He could admit she was beautiful. But wow, she needed a beach vacation to take down her professionalism. He wondered what she’d look like without all the makeup, the perfectly positioned jewelry, the tight pencil skirts.
She had worn jeans last night, and Brad secretly found himself hoping she’d wear those again. Or maybe he liked the skirts.
“You don’t like any of it,” he told his reflection. He’d once been wound as tight as Celeste, and his doctor had put him on blood
