MEERA POV
I woke up slowly, that soft, hazy kind of waking where you don't remember where you are for a second... and then reality returns in fragments.
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I write the kind of romance that simmers.
41
40. The Homecoming
Whispers After Class
"You know this is wrong." "Then stop looking at me like you want me to ruin you." I wrote a story about wanting him--about tangled sheets, locked doors, and a mouth that ruined me in the best way. He returned it with red ink and a warning: "Be careful. This fantasy is dangerous." But fantasies don't burn like this. They don’t watch me like I’m already undressed. And they sure as hell don’t whisper my name like it’s a sin and a prayer in the same breath.
midnightwhispers_
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