Debbie
I knew the rut was tearing him apart. In the kitchen, I saw the way he gripped the counter occasionally, his knuckles white, trying to keep himself together. I’m not an expert on male anatomy, but I know enough. I had seen enough from his brothers to have known that my presence—my scent, my touch—is like throwing gasoline on a fire. And I’m ready to burn with him. That is why I didn't go to my room. That is why I walked into his bathroom and let the towel hit the floor.
The steam from the shower swirled around us. I stepped into the stall, the spray of water hitting my back. Rain stood there, frozen. He looked at me like I was a dream he was afraid to touch.
"Debbie..." he choked out, his voice thick and rough. "What are you doing here?"
I stepped closer until the tips of my bre
