Off-Side Love With My Best Friend's Brother
When we reached the doorway of my bedroom, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The room I had spent hours decorating.. the place that was supposed to be my safe haven looked like a disaster zone. My vanity table was covered in the fine, black soot of fingerprint powder. My jewelry dish was knocked over, leaving a few stray rings scattered across the dark wood. But the worst part was the bed. Two technicians were carefully folding my floral duvet, sliding it into a large, clear plastic biohazard bag.
"We need the sheets for DNA and fiber analysis," Miller explained, stepping into the room. "If he touched the mattress or the pillows, we might get a touch-sample."
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