My therapist is dirty. That secret knowledge sits in my chest like a warm coal, heating me up from the inside. Ambrose just–just snapped, and the way he claimed me, the way he touched me and licked me and loved me, rough or not... it was everything. More intense and more delicious than I'd ever dreamed.
I float through my morning classes the next day, a big, goofy grin splashed over my face. I'm so freaking happy, there's a risk I might bob up to the ceiling. I'm vibrating in every chair I sit in, overflowing with happiness and excitement.
Ambrose.
It really happened.
He wants me too. And we did that.
When can we do it again? That's the question bouncing around my brain this morning. I need more, more, more.
A whole lifetime of Ambrose wouldn't be enough—but I'll start with another s
