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The timing about the baby was both right and wrong.
Nothing like that happened. I swear.
All three combined, usually.
He pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a small, rectangular, black box. I carefully lifted the lid, gasping.
And the longer it went on, the wetter I became. "Does this guy," Chris asked, his voice husky as he ran a single finger up and down the soft hollow of skin just behind my ear along the back of my jaw, "know right where to touch you to drive you wild?" I wanted him to both continue and yet stop touching me there.
I was still mulling over how to broach the subject when we met for coffee, but then your mom called.