Craving The Playboy's Touch
Emma
I turned around to face Adrian, forcing a smile onto my face to hide the pure rage still buzzing in my veins from the mere sight of Trevor.
“Hey,” I said, looking up at him. “Look who it is. Happy birthday.”
He was wearing the four-thousand-dollar customized shirt he had bragged about earlier, paired with tailored black trousers. Seeing it in person, I actually understood why it cost that much. The fabric is a rich looking silk that caught the dim purple lights of the room, shifting in color as he moved. It was a deep charcoal grey with subtle, matte-black embroidery running along the collar and down the hidden buttons. The fit was perfect, hugging his broad shoulders and chest without
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