Chapter Eight

 

It quickly became apparent one Wednesday evening that Richard was not well versed in the world of texting with emojis. In fact, his texting was stiff and lacked a flow.

What started off as innocent had me rolling on the floor in laughter, slamming my hand on my kitchen table as I tried not to pee myself from laughing so hard.

I miss the sweetness of your lips—Richard

That was the first message that popped up onto my phone as I cooked dinner. It was sweet and made my chest clench.

I miss your warmth—Natasha, I typed back.

I miss your warmth, too. Especially the warmth between your thighs—Richard

I quirked a brow at the screen. Someone was feeling frisky.

Perv—Natasha

What can I say, my every thought is of you, including the very dirty ones—Richard

Well, now all I can think of is your in my —Natasha

I bit my lip as I stared down at the screen, waiting for his response, but when it came I stared down at it in disbelief.

I have no idea what that means. Is that an eggpla