Divorced My Husband And Found Love
And that, of course, made me want to touch her more.
I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, just long enough to draw a deep, shaky breath, and tried to rerun my mantra. Six months. Boundaries. Professionalism.
I opened my eyes and looked at the bonfire pit again.
Naomi was sitting cross-legged on the rattan sofa, her feet bare, the hem of her simple white sundress riding high on her tanned thighs. Her hands were wrapped around a glass of something clear and sparkling. She was leaning back, her head tipped to the sky, glowing in the heat of the bonfire. She was laughing, a pure, unrestrained sound that hit me like a physical blow, right where the pulse thumped heavily beneath my ribs. H
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