He shouldn't have gotten into the car, but he made the choice.

When I talked to him (on Friday), he was so excited to come down.

He (Rowe) was a good guy. He could always make you laugh no matter what mood you were in.

be simpl looks smpl its a sign of beauty..

His hands moved over my back, frantic. His lips were everywhere, my jaw, my chin, the length of my neck. His tongue traced my pulse point, making me hyperaware of every inch of skin. It was too much. I tore my mouth away. "Why are you doing this?" I panted. "Why now?"

His lips skimmed across my cheek. He nipped my ear. "I couldn't compete with a dead guy. You worshipped him."

"So I wouldn't forget him," I cried, desperate. I felt out of control.

Ian dug his fingers into my hair and seared his gaze with mine. "He's alive, Aimee. Flesh and blood. That I can compete with.

He turned and quickly removed his pants. My eyes grew huge, since he wore nothing underneath. I started to stammer, trying to avert my gaze,his sex all but riveting my eyes as I stared, blatantly helpless.“We will not make love. You’re in this bed as a friend. Why make things difficult?” I was hot all over; his body was perfect, strong, welcoming and oh-so-alive.