DELILAH
The week moved by at an impossible crawl. I knew that I shouldn’t have been feeling this sort of way, but I couldn’t wait for Jacob to get
back.
The idea scared me a little. The whole relationship was supposed to be a farce, but the way I was starting to feel about him was anything but.
It was Sunday, and I was at work in the break room, a barely touched plastic bowl of pad Thai in front of me as I flipped through our text conversation over the last week.
I went through the media tab, shaking my head in disbelief at the shot of me in my bedroom in nothing but a pair of panties, my phone in one hand and my boobs in the other.
I scrolled a little further in the media tab, coming to a stop on the most recent picture he’d sent me. It was a POV shot of him lounging by the private
