Rogue

I dropped her hand and took my surroundings in for a brief moment. Her room was cold—I’d expected to see red walls and maybe an enlarged photo of her above her bed. I’d imagined a four-poster bed with nets. Her room was nothing like that.

There were no photos, nothing personal. It was as if it wasn’t her place, but a showroom. Even that would have had a picture on the wall. Something to make it more inviting.

The bedcovers were the same color as the walls and floor, cream. I had been in a few women’s bedrooms, and none of them had been as cold as Claire’s. For a minute it took me by surprise, especially because of the way she was hungry for me.

Did this sex-craved woman really live here?

Did she rent it because she didn’t want me to know where she really lived?

I shook my head and thought about her stripping down like a hooker ready to take her favorite client. There was no misunderstanding about what we were about to do.

A whole lot of fucking!

I just needed to take my time. I want