No Longer Your Perfect Tool
Passion, violence, an undisguised sexual charge.
"Vivian, I just wanted you to see it for what it is. You see it now, don't you?" Mia's voice was an icicle piercing my chest.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since he'd left my bed, murmuring "You're my only one" in my ear.
I closed my eyes, my stomach churning. I tilted my head back, refusing to let another tear fall. "Thank you, Mia. Thanks for showing me."
My own voice sounded terrifyingly calm, as if it belonged to someone else.