But she knew that was a lie. It was him. One hundred percent the way Andrew Copeland waltzed his way right into her body and played her like an instrument.Other than those few delicious kisses, he hadn’t even touched her yet, but she found herself so turned on that even shifting in her seat was enough to send a ripple of pleasure through her from her pussy outward. They drove toward Ballard with an easy silence. Tom Waits whispered and howled quietly over the speakers.“I had a good time tonight.”She winced inwardly at how lame that must have sounded. Instead, he reached and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Me too, Red.” He took a right onto a cul-de-sac. “Ah, here we are.”She looked down the street and knew without having to be told which house was his. He pulled into the narrow driveway, and she tried not to gape.He must have spent a lot of time on this house. The others on the street were of like architecture, but his had been lovingly restored to its faux Northwest Tudor-type beauty.
