Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy Compilation
She lived a few blocks away, in a messy studio with her cat, and we grabbed lunch whenever we could.
Work that morning dragged. I shelved romance novels, the kind with shirtless guys on the covers, and wondered if Mark and I would ever get that steamy. Our honeymoon in the mountains had been sweet—hiking, cuddling by the fire—but nothing wild. I wasn't complaining; I loved the quiet moments. But sometimes, flipping through those books, I felt a little spark of curiosity. What if? Anyway, by noon, I was out the door, weaving through the bustling streets to the cafe.