LAUREN MOSS
I wash the little things I used and put them away, feeling Blake’s gaze burning into my skin. I can feel that I’m not going to last much longer... without doing something stupid.
Not like this...
I go back to the living room and almost forget how to put one foot in front of the other and walk like a human being, with this man staring at me.
I just want to shove my face into a hole somewhere.
“Did you like my pajamas?” I ask him, embarrassed and irritated, because he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Who looks at someone like that?
“Didn’t seem like anything special,” he replies, and I stare at him, truly offended. Yeah, it really isn’t anything special, but why did he have to say it like that?
“Then you shouldn’t be staring at me like that if there’s nothing special to loo
