Page 78 of Torn

Oh. The way it hides you but gives just enough of a peek is driving me crazy. It’s the perfect tease.

Kenzi

I could grow my hair that long if you want.

No. I like you exactly as you are. Don’t ever change for anyone. Not even me.

Kenzi

You really like them? I’ve never posed like this before. Do I look awkward?

Hell no. I love them. I can’t stop looking at them. It’s killing me they’re so tiny on my screen.

Kenzi

I was really hoping you would like them. I was so nervous.

Don’t be. Did you send these to Sailor?

I’ll go into an all-out rage if she says yes. I’ll hunt that fucker down and smash his phone and beat him until any memory of seeing her like this is gone from his brain. I can’t stand sharing women anymore and there is no way in hell I could ever share her.

Kenzi

God no. I would never do that. He’s just a friend. Some of these are for my portfolio and the others are just for me to have.

I lick my lips and adjust my throbbing cock under the sheets. I swear I want to paw at my phone screen right now just to have any piece of her I can get. This is sheer torture.

Why did you send these, Kenz? What are you trying to do to me?

Kenzi

I want you to see ME. I want you to want me like I want you.

The air leaves my lungs. Is she trying to kill me? Does she have any idea what she’s saying? And the effect it’s having on my thumping heart and other southern regions of my anatomy?

Make no mistake, Angel. I want you. Bad.

I’ve completely lost my mind. We should stop this before it goes too far into places we have no right to be in and will never be able to back ourselves out of without some major damage.

But it feels so good.

Kenzi

I want to see you. Send me a picture of you.

No. I don’t do selfies.

Kenzi

Please? I love all your muscles and your tattoos. I won’t show anyone. It’s only for me to look at when I’m alone.

My heart feels like it’s going into cardiac arrest, pounding so hard I can hear it and my head is thundering with the aftershock of her words. She wants me. She wants me to want her.

Ugh. It’s all so fucking wrong. Taboo at its finest.

The devil plants his ass on my shoulder. It’s just playful texting, though, right? I’m not touching her. She’s hours and miles away from me. It’s late and dark. We’re sleepy. It’s safe.

Before I can change my mind, I turn on my bedside lamp, push the covers down low around my hips and snap a picture, cropping it to make sure my hard-on isn’t visible. She’ll like this one because it shows my hair all messy around my shoulders, which I always catch her eyeing, plus my chest, abs, and all the ink that comes with it. I always assumed she was too young to appreciate all the work I put into my body, but apparently she’s not. I hit send and wait.