A girl’s first time should be private. I’ve been watching the big, brooding stranger from across the canyon with my paintbrush in hand. Does he feel me? Sometimes I swear he looks right through my tinted windows. A risky escape and one rash decision lands me right where I need to be. In his strong, protective arms, his primal hunger consuming me. But he’s not the Hollywood Hills millionaire I believed him to be. He’s an enemy to my father. And we’re…always…being watched.
No posts yet
Kick off the convo with a theory, question, musing, or update