The action of his hand curling around the arm rest near my shoulder has a sensual flavor, as though he's caressing skin, not the thin aluminum rail. �...�Hullo.” “Hi.” He sits behind me. I swivel to look. I want to start a conversation but my throat is dry. “Your eyes are questioning.” “This is my poker face.” He laughs. It's magic. I bite my lip. “I'm Paula.” “Tim” “Hi Tim. Want to come home with me?” I haven't thought about the words, they come out of my mouth before I've willingly formed them. And I’m hinting about bed rooms and blankets. Complaining of the cold just so you can warm me. Touch me, taste me, feel me, desire me, want me, so much that we burn with passion. So much that it aches. Tow drinks later and I’m in a backseat. One back seat later, we are at your front door. Now I’m stumbling to your bedroom, but how I knew were it was, I’ll never know. So I make your bed and lay down. Pretend I have every intention of sleep. But my claws they gently run down your spine. They. More

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