“I know, right?”
A message popped up at the corner of my monitor. “This was your idea.”
“It was Edie’s idea. XXX I don’t give a damn about erotica, I just write it to prove I can write anything.”
He got up and looked down at me. He squirmed. He ran his hands over my chest, and I absently caressed his smooth, firm bottom. “Who cares?”
“She’s not as good as I am.”
“It’s hard to believe you don’t care about that stuff when you get so competitive,” Sandy said. “I like it.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Who cares?”
“She’s not as good as I am.”
“It’s hard to believe you don’t care about that stuff when you get so competitive,” Sandy said.
