Текст книги "Wild Cards"

Автор книги: R.C. Stephens

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Epilogue:

Four months later

After twenty-four hours of labor our bouncing baby boy was born. I never really knew that my heart could be so big, until I saw my son and the way Luc watched him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. My man may have been groomed to be a rough mafia boss, but he was sweet, tender, and loved our child endlessly.

“What should we call him?” he asked me within minutes of giving birth. I had barely caught my breath from pushing. I didn’t know if it would be a boy or a girl, so we decided that we would meet the baby and then decide a name. “So what do you think?” he nudged me again.

“Hmm, I’m not sure…no French names, though, I need something I can relate to.”

“You have a problem with the French, baby?” Luc said kissing my lips.

“No problems with the French, they happen to be really good in bed. But to be honest, after splitting in two the way I just did, you ain’t coming near me anytime soon,” I said, holding up my finger to him and showing him that I meant business.

Luc threw his head back laughing. “You take all the time you need to heal, Vicky, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s be honest, the no sex thing is not going to hold long with you, you are addicted to me,” he said with a cocky tone.

“I am addicted to you, baby, but don’t hold your hopes up, I just pushed something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a tangerine.”

“Seriously, Vicky, let’s cut out the fruit talk. I will not refer to your pussy as a tangerine.”

“Ssh,” I said smacking him in the chest. “Do not use that word in front of our son,” I demanded. Then we both looked down to our son and let out a contented sigh. I could sit all day and watch him. He was perfect.

“Let’s call him Kai. Luc, it has many meanings like strong and unbreakable,” I suggested. The truth was that at the end of the pregnancy I had trouble sleeping, so I stayed up on my phone at night and Googled boy and girl names and Kai just stood out for me. I knew that there were a lot of twists and turns in life. Nobody got everything they wanted, and nobody was free of disease or pain. We all faced something at one point or another. I wanted to give my son a name that I knew would be strong and represent a strong personality, just like his daddy.

His father had defeated Luc since he was a child. He grew up with abuse and later on his father pulled him into a life he didn’t want. Yet Luc was strong enough to persevere and he made the ultimate sacrifice of freeing his family from the bondage his father had placed on him. His mother and his brother, Justin, moved to Germany. They weren’t close to Luc and he didn’t seem to care, it was if he had wanted that part of his life completely erased. He focused on Kai and I, and he had a special relationship with my father. Once Kai was born, Bryce asked me if I would mind calling him Daddy, since he wanted little Kai calling him Grandpa. Of course I was happy to oblige.

Luc thrived on being an attentive father. He wanted Kai to have the close bond of family he never had growing up. He made it his life’s mission. He was my wild card and I would bet on him every time. Even though the dust had settled now, life was full of kicks and punches and with Luc by my side I knew that we would face those bumpy roads together. I knew I was stronger for having survived what I had survived. I knew that if something bad would strike, Luc and I were stronger together, and we would face this crazy life together.

Acknowledgements

I would first off like to thank my editing team. Ellie with Love N. Books. Her investment in the story helped me take it to the next level. Karen Hrdlicka of Barren Acres Editing, thank you for basically putting your life on hold to take on this project. You have no idea how much I appreciate your dedication and super amazing proofreading skills. I would also like to thank my cover artist Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations for making another cover that is simply put, Wow!

While writing this story my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and passed away. She was more than a grandmother to me because she spent a large portion of her time raising my sister and I. She was at my house having coffee and cookies this past March and by April 1^st she was gone. It was incredibly difficult to watch. She instilled in me a love for books and she was very proud of my accomplishments. She had a copy of Bitter Sweet Love sitting on her coffee table at all times and didn’t hesitate to share it with friends despite the hot and steamy nature of the story. She herself was an avid romance reader and I remember her collection of romance novels on a bookshelf in her room. She was always very supportive of me and my endeavors and she will be missed.

I would also like to thank my husband and kids for putting up with the endless hours I spend on a computer concocting my next story or deeply embroiled in what I am writing. I know my kids appreciate the pizza dinners they sometimes get when things get too busy in the book world and I am thankful that they are so understanding.

To all the readers and bloggers who have taken the time to read and share my stories, I am internally grateful for your selfless generosity. I have to say that the world isn’t always a fair and happy place but the people I have met in the book world have been so kind, caring, generous, helpful, selfless – that I can go on with a longer list of adjectives but I don’t want to bore you. I will just say that your support is really heartwarming!

I would love to hear back from my readers. You can connect with me on my website: http://www.rcstephens.com

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Present

January 2013

Have you ever been at such a low point in your life when you saw the light to the other side? I thought it was something that people experienced when they were old and gray and had lived a life full of hopes, dreams, accomplishments, and family. I never thought that the angel would come for me at twenty-five. It’s my birthday.

It’s also the day I die.

She’s here. I can see the light around her and feel the warmth of her presence, amber liquid pouring too quickly over my head. The heat flows between my legs. What’s happening? So much blood leaves my body. I can’t feel pain. I see only light and crimson. This is my end, but I’m not ready. I have so many things left unfinished, so many mistakes to correct. This is all my fault. The baby will die and I did this.

He will never forgive me. I need to see him one more time. I need to tell him the truth. He needs to understand what happened. I thought life would be different. I thought I had more time. If only I had more time.

My life can’t end like this.

Chapter 1

The Backroom

Five Months Earlier

“Yes, yes! Oh, that feels good. You’re so fucking hot.”

Having sex in the backroom of Mickey’s bar is always fun and exciting. My body comes alive as my blood roars and my heart pounds, making me feel wanted and cherished, for a moment. The backroom is really Mickey’s office. From up against the wall, I see the black shelves that hold restaurant supplies. One wall has a desk and chair. If Mickey only knew how many times I’ve gotten laid on that desk, he’d be sick. The third wall is completely empty. Lucky for me the guy I brought back here tonight is tall and strong.

He picks me up, and I instantly wrap my long, thin legs around his waist. He pushes my blond curls to the side and feathers kisses along my neck, sending delightful shivers to my core. He pins me up to the wall. Fucking my brains out, he’s scuffing my back, but who the hell cares?

I’m in pure ecstasy when I hear my best friend, Anna, holler from the front of the bar. “Lexi, Mickey just called! He’ll be here in ten minutes. Get your ass out of the backroom and start working. You’re going to get your butt fired and mine, too, for defending you!”

Darn it, I don’t want this feeling to end.

Anna’s a Spanish beauty with glowing skin, straight dark brown hair that hits just above her behind, and her eyes are the most perfect shade of emerald. She’s petite and has the best body ever. We met in undergrad in a first year political science class and hit it off right away. She’s a waitress, and I tend bar. She’s been a little annoyed with the amount of time I’ve been spending in the backroom. It means she has to work harder waitressing and making the drinks. I feel bad about it, but I’ve been down on life lately and sex is the only thing that makes me feel good. When a guy has himself buried in me, I feel cherished, a feeling that I used to have and now crave. The meaningless sex works because I am happy in the moment, but I don’t fear my heart getting shredded to pieces.

“Give me a minute, Anna. I need one minute.”

“Fine, Bandita, I won’t say I told you so.”

That’s all I need. One more minute to climax, which I do.

“That was amazing.”

And this time, I’m not lying. The guy was really good.

“You’re amazing. I’ll call you later,” he says with a huge, sated smile splayed across his face. He’s pulling up his jeans over his muscular legs, looking proud of himself. And he damn well should be. He zips up his pants and runs his hands through his slick brown hair.

As he turns the knob to open the door, I mutter, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

I really don’t want him calling me later. I don’t even plan on giving him my phone number. He reaches over to give me a kiss, and I accidentally turn my head so he kisses my cheek. He probably doesn’t understand how I can turn so cold after what we just did.

“See ya,” he says, his earlier proud smile falling, replaced with a look of confusion. He should be thankful I’m only after a good fuck and be on his way.

After the guy walks out the door, I straighten out the jean skirt and slutty tank top that Mickey makes us wear and leave the backroom for the bar. I feel bad because the place is now packed, and Anna is behind the bar mixing a martini and pouring three shots of rum like a mad woman.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you for that long. There was barely anyone here when I went back there.”

Anna’s got this knowing look on her face. “No worries. So who was that guy? He’s pretty hot.”

I give her a happy nod. “Yeah, I know, right? He’s in engineering, really smart and handsome.”

Anna’s brow scrunches up. “So why are you fucking him in the backroom at Mickey’s?”

She knows the answer, so I don’t even know why she’s bringing it up. “Why not? The relationship isn’t going anywhere. We’ve been out a couple of times and he’s good in bed. He’s a keeper, for now.”

“I hear you, Bandita, but you know my two night rule. I don’t know how you can spend months with a guy then dump him like that.”

I’m quickly preparing all the drink orders behind the bar. I’m trying to work fast because we have some pissed off customers who’ve been waiting while I was having my backroom tryst. Anna is leaning on the bar, waiting for the orders to be ready. It’s nice that we get to work together like this because sometimes it’s the only chance we have to talk. Unless Mickey’s around and then we keep the girl talk to a minimum.

I turn around and place all of the drinks on Anna’s tray. “You know I only dump them when they get attached. I don’t do attachment.”

Anna throws back her head, laughing. “Phew, I thought you were ready to settle down. I would be lost without you, my friend.”

I wink. “Come on, Anna. I’m only twenty-four years old. I have plenty of time to get soft, if I ever will.” I scoot her away with my hand. If she doesn’t get those drinks to the table soon, our tips tonight will be crap.

Anna walks away from the bar, holding her drink tray with one hand. She’s wearing a pair of tight skinny jeans and the same boob-bearing Mickey’s tank top that I’ve got on. She turns around, her long dark hair flying across her lightly tanned shoulder. “One day, someone is going to knock your socks off, then you’re going to fall hard.” She grins at me and walks away.

She’s probably right, and I’m not going to lie. That thought has crossed my mind, and it terrifies the living daylights out of me. But you would never get me to admit that out loud.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not the falling type. I’ve fallen too much in my life already, and I’ve learned how to stay on track. It works for me.”

I hope that Anna has heard my last words. I will never fall for anyone again. The problem is she got too far away and didn’t hear a thing I said. I feel the need to repeat myself so I do. When Anna walks back up to the bar, I tell her straight up. “You know I’m not the falling type so get any ideas of that ever happening out of your head.”

She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t believe a word. I don’t know if I believe me.

“‘Kay,‘kay, fine. But you realize that screwing guys in the backroom of a bar is just messed up?”

The truth is I don’t even know what’s gotten into her tonight. She screws a different guy every two nights. With irritation scratching my throat, I say, “Whatever. So I don’t like to show guys where I live. It’s my private space, and I like to keep it that way.” Anna waves me off, then walks over to the tables to serve more drinks. She obviously senses my sensitivity to the issue and knows it’s better to be silent sometimes.

Mickey’s is right next to the University of Toronto, where I go to school. A lot of students hang out here in the evenings and start their alcohol-infused nights by picking up their girl or guy of choice. It’s not your typical fancy bar that you’d find downtown. It’s more on the rustic side, made completely out of wood. There are a lot of pool tables at the back, beer signs lit with neon lights hang everywhere, and a ton of tables are scattered around where patrons order some of Mickey’s famous dishes, like a bacon double cheeseburger or curly fries. There’s also a stage, and about once a week Mickey brings in different talent to play live music, mostly rock. Mickey’s is popular, jam-packed every night. Which is good because I need to pay off my student loans.

Anna is a sister to me in every sense of the word. We’ve spent the last seven years attached at the hip. We both wanted to apply for law school, so we were in a lot of the same classes. We got to talking and realized we had a lot in common. I had told Anna about my difficult relationship with my mother, and being my roomie, she quickly saw the scars on my back from the physical abuse my mom dished out during her drunken rages.

Of course having an alcoholic mom isn’t something I advertise. It’s not often I think about those awful days, but when I do, I’m filled with the will to survive in the best way I can. What I do at Mickey’s helps me push my memories to the backroom of my mind.Dylan is harder to stop thinking about. We had been neighbors since birth. Our mothers were pregnant at the same time and bonded instantly. We were put into pre-school and grade school together and were good friends. Once my parents divorced, our parents no longer hung around each other. I became quiet and withdrawn at school. Being one of the most popular boys, Dylan had a lot of friends, and girlfriends. We lived very different lives. I need to bury his memory with the rest of my bad ones.

Back home it was hard to tell my story. University was different; a weight had been lifted. Anna got it because she’d had a difficult childhood, too. She was adopted by a couple, but when she was four years old, they’d divorced. Her father had no interest in her from day one and her mother was mentally ill. She spent most of her life in and out of foster care while her adoptive mother was in and out of mental institutions. With histories like ours, we instantly bonded. I had her back; she had mine. We were also both virgins in undergrad, which was a little odd at the age of eighteen. So we came up with relationship rules. We’d both been burned too many times.

I had told Anna how my father had cheated on my mother with his secretary and how messed up things had become with Dylan. His betrayal hurt the most because he was the only constant in my life. He gave me the love and support I never got from my parents, or anyone for that matter. That’s why losing him hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced. My chest constricts at the thought. Anna’s never experienced love. She simply doesn’t trust men.

Our rules were simple from the beginning. Don’t get attached – just have fun. This led me to create a few more rules. Don’t bring a guy back to my apartment; don’t let a guy tell you he likes you. If he does, he’s out the door. Anna set up her rules differently. She likes to have men come back to our apartment. I’m seriously scared she’s going to end up with an STD one day, but she always assures me she’s protected. Our life is school, partying, hooking up with hot guys, and working at Mickey’s.

Why am I even thinking about any of this? I look over to Anna, who’s standing beside me behind the bar. She has a bit of an annoyed look on her face like she’s been talking and I haven’t heard a word she’s said.

“So are you coming to that frat party with me after work or what?” she asks with her hands planted on her hips.

“I don’t know. Which one?” I ask, finally focusing on her.

She knows I’m waiting for her to respond, but I think she wants my complete attention, and I’m still wiping the bar. “Beta Phi, why?” She cocks her head to the side.

I’m a little shocked she has energy for a party like that after such a busy night at work. “Because their parties are insane, and I don’t think I’m up to it. I’ve been feeling a little tired. I must be getting my period.”

Anna drapes her hand over my shoulder. “All the more reason to come out now and get laid before red arrives.”

I look at her wide-eyed. “You do realize I was just getting laid in the backroom, right?”

She’s not fazed at all and waves her hand at me. “Whatever. Let’s go get laid. It’s a Thursday night.”

I inhale a deep breath. I’m miffed, but she knows I’ll give in to her. “Och, fine. Are we heading out right after the shift? Because I don’t feel like going home and changing.”

Anna looks under the bar where her purse is stored and with a wicked smirk on her face, she says, “Sure. I have a dress in my purse.”

I’m about to prepare a rum and Coke, but I stop when I realize what she’s said. “You’re kidding me, right?”

She laughs hysterically. “I don’t kid about fashion, Bandita. I have a dress and a hot red thong waiting for me.”

I shake my head at her. “Wow, you never cease to amaze me.” The truth is I’m not interested enough in fashion to put much effort into what I wear.

Anna smiles. “I know.”

“I’m going in jeans and a tank top.”

“Whatever, you look beautiful in anything.” She smiles sweetly.

I roll my eyes and go back to the kitchen to stack the bar with more glasses. It’s a busy night and we’re starting to run low. When I come back, I see Anna standing on the other side of the bar, checking her cell phone.

I’ve been away from home for seven years, yet sometimes my mind won’t let me forget my horrible childhood. For some reason, tonight I can’t stop thinking about it. I remember picking up Mom from the local bar and having to put her in the car while she was having a temper tantrum. I could barely drive, and she was yelling and smacking my head. The bartender insisted I come and get her because she was making a scene.

I’m jolted out of my thoughts when I hear Anna say, “Earth to Lexi! Can you take their order or do I have to do it myself?”

“No, Anna, I’m doing it. Geez!”

I stand back up and leave the unstacked glasses on the bar. “Hey, can I get you guys a drink?” I ask, leaning over the bar to display my cleavage and flashing a smile.

I notice one of the guys checking me out. He looks down at my cleavage then back up at my face and says, “How about first you give me your number, then I’ll tell you what I like to drink?”

Is this guy for real? I never hand out my number at the bar. It’s my bartender rule 101. Yes, I take my dates to the backroom for a little fun. But they’re men I’m dating. Besides, the backroom is a public space so it’s sexy and uninhibited. I only do it when Mickey isn’t around and there’s a lock on the door, so no one can walk in.

I’m silent, but he’s persistent. “So will you give me your number? I usually don’t do this, but you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

I smile at him because I don’t want to lose out on tips. “You don’t sound very original there, buddy, and I don’t give my number out at the bar. So, what can I get you to drink?” His earlier cocky smile is gone. With a look of defeat, he mumbles, “I’ll take a Corona. I just gave you a compliment. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I pass him his Corona. He leaves me a twenty and tells me to keep the change. Fifteen dollar tip! Not a bad way to end the evening.

Anna’s gone to the backroom to change, and I head into the bathroom, add some water to tame down my curls, then flip my hair over and shake it out a bit. I run my fingers through it, trying to control my unruly blond locks and slick on some pink lip gloss.

In the foggy mirror, I see Anna walk into the bathroom. I turn my head around quickly. “Holy shit. That is one sexy dress.”

Anna nods. “I know. I plan on getting lucky tonight,” she says, running her hands along her curves and smoothing out her dress.

I burst into laughter. “Like that’s new.”

She purses her lips at me. “Fine. You got me.”

I love her attitude.

We both leave the bathroom. The waitress who’s replacing us gives us a one up, scowling. Our shift ends late, but on this clear night, the stars shine bright and the weather is still warm. We walk down the street, giggling and having fun. The frat party is just around the corner. I hear the music pounding, and as we walk toward the house, I notice some kegs of beer lined up on the front lawn. We walk in, and the party’s already started. Everyone is wasted.

For a long time I didn’t drink because the memory of my mom lying in bed drunk and her wretched screams were burnt into my soul. I drank a bit in high school. But when everything went to hell on prom night, I decided it wasn’t for me. Then one night in undergrad, Anna forced me to get drunk. I liked feeling lightheaded and airy. All my inhibitions were lost for a night and I could care less what the people around me thought. I soon learned that I wasn’t a monster like Mom, just an extra giddy, happy girl who danced really sexily, or so I’ve been told.

I head over to the kitchen, which is outdated with its brown cabinets and beige countertop. It’s dirty and grungy, but what can I expect from a bunch of men living together? A short guy with dark skin and dark brown eyes is lining up shots of tequila. He notices Anna and me walk in and gives us a nod. “Hey girls, would you like one?”

Anna and I stare at each other, and say at the same time, “Sure, thanks.”

We down the shots and walk toward the main foyer of the house. The place is already stuffed with a bunch of extremely drunk people. I see some girls I know from the sorority house and begin chatting with them. They’ve asked me to join the sorority a million times, but it isn’t my thing. I’m not a loner by any means. I just like to call the shots in my life, and in a sorority, everything is about the sisters. It’s too much for me, and besides, I have my sister Ashley, and I’ve got Anna. They’re all I need. Still, it’s fun hanging out, getting drunk, and forgetting.

There’s a swimming pool in the backyard of the frat house. It’s September, so it’s still warm enough at night to go swimming in Toronto. I saunter out back where a bunch of sorority sisters sit beside the pool on lawn chairs. No one is swimming; they’re just hanging out and drinking. Anna walks up behind me, clearly as drunk and swaying as I am. “Hey, Bandita, there you are. I brought us more shots. Here, take one.” She passes me the shot and almost spills it on my shirt.

“Thanks.” I feel its burn sliding along my throat. I’ve only had a beer and two shots, and I’m already tipsy as hell. I’m such a lightweight.

I practically fall over when I try to sit in a lawn chair beside the sisters. I turn around to see Anna standing on a table, her hands up to her mouth like she’s about to yell something. “So what do you say, girls? Should we take a swim?”

Leave it to Anna to come up with bright ideas and be the center of the party. She loves the attention. Some of the sisters like the idea, but there are about five of us who don’t have bathing suits.

“Anna, I’m not getting in that water without a bathing suit,” I whisper in her ear.

She whispers back, “Come on, Bandita, you only live once.”

I appreciate that she’s being quiet because I’m self-conscious of my naked body. And the scars on my back left from years of abuse. The place is crawling with drunk frat boys, and I’m not in the mood to get noticed.

“Come on, Lex. Just come swimming in your bra and underwear.”

As I’m contemplating, a few of the sisters get undressed, leaving their clothes, including bras and underwear, by the side of the pool. It’s late at night, but there’s enough moonlight to notice their naked bodies entering the water. Once they’re in, I can hear them laughing about what a good feeling it is to skinny dip. All of a sudden, Anna is standing naked on the diving board.

“What the fuck, Anna?”

She jumps in the air and does a perfect jackknife into the water. All of the guys who’ve come outside to see the naked girls begin cheering around us. It’s taking her a while to get back up, and I panic. I throw off my tank top and jeans and jump into the water. I need to save her. She comes bursting to the top of the water like a rocket.

“I knew I could get you in here.” She’s laughing her ass off.

I’m drunk and I think the alcohol has intensified the effect of my feelings. I hit the water, splashing her in the face. “That wasn’t funny. You scared the shit out of me.”

“For real, Lex? I was a competitive swimmer. Let’s not exaggerate,” she says with a bemused smile.

“Yeah, a competitive swimmer who’s drunk off her ass and just dived naked into a pool in front of fifty frat boys.”

She splashes water in my eyes. “Come on, Bandita. Let’s go have fun.”

We swim over to the shallow end. Some guys decided to jump in after the girls. Most of them are wearing boxers, but a few of the cocky bastards are in their birthday suits. We’re all having fun playing water polo and tag. I’m pretty drunk so I repeatedly get tagged during the game.

“Hey, girls!”

It’s Drake. He’s known to be a player, and I’ve slept with him once. He was good; he knows what he’s doing. We all turn around to see what he wants.

“Sorry, guys, the party is moving to the house.”

We all look at each other confused, assuming he’s being a drunk idiot. But then he opens a black garbage bag he has in his hands and starts filling it with all of the clothes we’ve left by the pool. We scream at him to stop. But no one wants to jump out of the water and fight with him. I’m usually not confrontational at all, but I get out of the pool. I’m wearing a blue bra and matching boy shorts so it’s not so different from a bathing suit. Drake checks out my wet body from head to toe, and I see heat in his eyes. I’m going to use it against him.

“Come on, Drake, just give me the bag.” I hold my hand out to take it from him.

Everyone around us has gone quiet, waiting to see what will happen next.

“No way, baby. Why don’t you come a little closer and get it?” Drake has a sly smile on his face. He’s challenging me and it’s hard to back away from it.

I take a few more steps toward him. He’s got a sexy smile splayed across his face and a sparkle in his blue eyes. It tells me that he’s got a plan up his sleeve. “Just give back the clothes, Drake.”

“Or what?” He’s holding the garbage bag in the air only inches away from me.

It takes me a second to think of a plan. When it hits me, I hope the sisters will follow through. “If you don’t give me that bag right now, every one of those girls will get out of the water and throw you in there themselves.”

He still has a smile on his face like he doesn’t believe it’s going to happen. I see Anna in the water, whispering in their ears. She’s probably getting them on board.

“Drake, I’m going to count to three.”

I’ve got this serious tone going on despite the slick smile he’s still holding onto.

I yell, “One, two, three, charge!”

The truth is, I can’t believe it myself. About ten naked girls jump out of the pool and aim for Drake. All of the guys around us are hollering and probably very jealous of the fact that he’s being swarmed by so many naked bodies. They grab the bag away from him. Janet, one of the sisters, tosses the bag my way. Then they create a circle around him, pushing him toward the water. When he gets to the edge, he starts pleading that we should at least allow him to get undressed. Anna looks back at me, nodding. I nod back and they push him into the water, clothes and all.

The girls and I take the bag and stroll back into the house. The guys are a little too excited right now. I’m just amazed how comfortable the girls are in their own skin. I wish I could be that confident, but my scars are a constant reminder that I’m not like them.

We all dry off and get our clothes back on. It’s not such a big deal that Drake is all wet because he lives in the house so he can head upstairs and change. Seconds later, he walks into the house soaking wet, and all of the girls clap. He takes a bow and heads for his room. A few minutes later, he’s back downstairs, all dried off and wearing a tight black t-shirt that shows off his built arms, and jeans that sit low on his waist. His mid-length hair is all wet and slicked back. He walks up to me. I think he’s going to give me a piece of his mind, but he’s all turned on. I can tell by the way his eyes are devouring my body.