I felt my pussy throb as I read the scene over and over again. I wanted, needed — was hungry for — sex. I stopped reading. I looked up from my book at the Tv; it was the third inning.
I wonder who’s winning? Oh, I don’t give a shit — I hate baseball.
I slipped a bookmark between the pages of my novel and placed the book on the coffee table. I ran a hand lovingly down the cover, down Fernando’s muscular chest.
I love romances. I wish I lived in a romance novel.
I looked at Ray. My eyes said I need you. He didn’t notice me.
It’s not his fault, I told myself. He works hard to build a future for us. Ray just needs time to relax, and besides, he loves baseball.
What’s important is we’re finally at home, alone, together.