He looks back at me several times, as if I would change my mind and open my arms to him. Who the hell does this guy think he is? I told him I didn’t need him, and yet he still makes up his mind that I am some princess in need of being rescued? As I shut my front door, I touch a hand to my face. My body is even burning up over him. At least, I think it’s because of anger. I could be feeling flushed for other reasons, too—like that amazing, out of this world orgasm I just received very unexpectedly. I don’t know what I was thinking. I am really not the kind of girl who does this sort of thing. I don’t sleep with someone I just met. I don’t even sleep with people I know really well. It usually takes me at least five really awesome dates for me to go to bed with a guy, and that’s only if he decides to stick around and wait for me. But there was something about Tank and how he brought me to bed, touched me so gently, and then managed to still argue with me.
