In Love With My Bully
Cole Harrington
Nicola breezed into the bedroom, her loose hair catching in the soft light as she shut the door behind her. She wore a fitted white tank, so snug it left nothing to the imagination, and the shortest pair of shorts I’d ever seen her in. She flopped onto the bed with casual grace, scrolling her phone, while I watched, every nerve suddenly on alert.
My gaze moved over her, unbidden and unwilling to stop. Her tank rode up a little, revealing that slim waist, those curves, the smooth expanse of her legs. I felt my mind blank as I took her in—she was all soft skin and bare, tempting lines.