Allison woke up with her stomach completely in knots. She had expected time to drag, but even with the anticipation of the second date, the week had flown by. She had been grateful for the distraction school provided, keeping her mind off her buzzing nerves.
She rubbed bits of crust from her eyes as she rolled over in bed and glanced at the flashing red digits on her alarm clock. Elena had told her to be ready by nine in the morning, so she still had plenty of time. Allison had never been invited on a morning date before. She wasn’t even sure if a morning date was an actual thing that couples did, but whatever. She was fairly certain she would show up anyplace at any time Elena asked her to. The woman was quickly becoming an addiction.
Sheets rustled as she slid her arm across her mattress, seeking her cell phone. She frequently lost it in her bed after staying up late reading e-books on the device until the words all began to blur together. She let out a soft hiss as her fingers finally slipped over the cold device where it was stuffed under the upper right corner of her pillow.
Allison tapped out a text to Elena and pressed send before tossing her phone back onto her pillow and sitting up to stretch out her back and limbs.
Hey, good morning. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for today.
A soft groan escaped her as her back bowed forward and burned with the delicious stretch. Before her arms had even extended fully over her head, though, her phone chimed with Elena’s response.
Allison glanced at Macy’s bed to make sure the chime hadn’t disturbed or woken her, but it was empty. She likely went home with someone the night before or crashed at a friend’s place. After sending a text requesting confirmation that Macy was alive, she then switched over to Elena’s messages to read her reply. She rolled her eyes at herself when she realized she was holding her breath as she clicked on Elena’s name.
“Chill out, Allison.” She needed to just relax. There was absolutely no possible way that Elena would cancel on her on the morning of their actual date, right? Right!
A smile snuck across her lips, though, quelling that tiny spark of apprehension as she read Elena’s reply.
Of course we are. Why? Is today no longer good for you? I know it’s early, but I promise there is a reason.
No, I’m totally still down. I don’t mind that it’s early, though I still have no clue what we’re supposed to be doing at nine a.m. because SOMEBODY is being stubborn.
Patience, dear. 😉
Allison grinned as she bit her bottom lip and clutched her phone. The little winky face at the end caused a wave of tingles to ripple down her spine.
Yeah, yeah. I’m being patient, she typed back. So, should I meet you somewhere or are you picking me up? What’s the plan?
A black town car will be there to collect you at nine sharp.
Laughing, Allison shook her head. That was some Pretty Woman shit right there, except Allison wasn’t a hooker or a ginger, but hey, whatever. It was fancy stuff nonetheless. Before she could inquire further, her phone chimed again.
I apologize that I cannot pick you up myself, but you will quickly discover why.
That’s cool, Allison replied. I trust you. Is there any specific way that I should dress or something?
No, dear. Wear whatever you like.
Awesome. I guess I’ll see you in a few hours then?
Allison smiled at Elena’s quick response. I very much look forward to it, Allison.
Me too.
Jumping off her bed, Allison headed for the shower, her entire body buzzing with excitement.
* * *
Allison approached the black town car cautiously. She was about halfway from the dorm building to the vehicle when the driver’s-side door opened, and a tall, balding man in an extremely expensive suit stepped out. Allison eyed him warily as he stepped around the nose of the car sporting a wide smile.
“You must be Miss Sawyer. Good morning.”
Stopping a few feet away from the man and car, Allison narrowed her eyes as, in a clipped manner, she asked, “How did you know?”
The driver moved toward the rear door of the town car. He opened it as he answered her. “Nine a.m. sharp. Long blonde hair, striking green eyes, and an attitude.” He smirked. “Miss Vega’s description was certainly on point.”
Allison laughed. “Hey, watch it.”
The driver motioned once more toward the now-visible back seat of the town car. When she didn’t make a move, he cleared his throat and asked, “Shall we?”
She shook her head. “Look man,” she said, holding up a hand, “I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but when you’ve lived the life that I’ve lived, you don’t just trust people because they smile and know what to say, okay? It’s one thing to go into a nice stranger’s house or something, because at least I can still make a break for it if I need to, but if I get in your car, you could friggin’ take me anywhere you wanted and the only option I would have would be to like either jump out or try to wreck the car, and neither one of those options bodes well for my physical well-being. Know what I’m saying?”
Chuckling, the man scratched at the back of his head. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
“Yup,” she replied with a loud smack of her lips.
“Well, if I was a kidnapper, how would I know your name and the name of the woman who sent for you?”
“Psh, please. There are lots of ways to find out easy information like that. You could’ve been stalking me for days or something. You could’ve hacked into my phone and read my texts and knew what kind of car I’d be waiting for. I mean, come on. Tons of serial killers have had way more elaborate schemes than that for just getting a person into a car, let alone all the stuff that comes after. I mean, Ted Bundy dressed up like a police officer to get potential victims to trust him and get into a car. He had all kinds of schemes and even faked different accents. That shit was elaborate. How do I know this whole ‘I’m-your-driver thing’ isn’t just a scheme?”
“I suppose you have a point.” A new, small smile pulled at his lips. “Though I think maybe you need to lay off the documentaries and crime shows.”
“Hey, those shows could be saving my life right now.” The man’s smile only grew.
“Fair enough.” He tilted his head. “You’re a smart girl; I’ll give you that. So, what can I do to gain your trust?”
“Simple.” Allison shrugged as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “First, what’s your name?”
“Rick,” he said. “Rick Adkins.”
“Okay, Rick. Just stay right there.” She opened her camera app and held her phone up. When she angled it just right so that the sun wasn’t glaring on the lens, she snapped a picture of the driver. “Okay, just give me one sec.”
She inserted the photo into a text message to Elena: So, before I get in some stranger’s car, can you confirm that this Rick Adkins dude is your driver?”
A moment later, her phone rang.
“Elena?” she asked as she clicked to accept the call.
Amusement adorned every note of Elena’s voice. “Yes, dear, that is my driver. He is trustworthy. Get in the car.”
Allison rolled her eyes. “Stop laughing at me, woman.” She didn’t wait for an answer before she ended the call.
“Thanks Rick,” she said as she slid onto the seat, and the driver closed the door.
Slim, calloused fingers drummed against the leather seat as Rick drove Allison through the teeming traffic of Manhattan. After a while, she couldn’t handle the silence any longer.
“So, Rick. You got a second job, or are you just a driver?”
“This is my only job, ma’am,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s Allison or Alli, and, well, your suit looks hella expensive. I didn’t figure drivers made quite enough to afford those brands.”
Rick glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You would be right, Alli. However, there are certain perks to being a loyal driver of those in the fashion industry. I’ve been with Miss Vega’s company for many years, long before she even took over.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Allison said, eyes widening. “Fashion industry? Elena works in fashion?”
“You didn’t know? We are headed for the fashion district as we speak.”
“Wow. I figured she was a CEO of one of those big Fortune 500 companies or something, but I thought it was just business, you know?” Allison sat up a little straighter. “Wait. Did you say that we’re headed for the fashion district? Are we going to her office or something?”
“She didn’t tell you anything, did she?”
“Not a damn thing.” Allison craned her neck as she stared out at the buildings now swooping by and the enormous sewing needle and button sculpture in the heart of the district.
“Then I had better keep my lips sealed, hadn’t I?”
“Nah, come on, Rick.” Allison tilted her head and smiled in the rearview mirror. “You can tell me.”
“Not a chance, kid. Besides, we are nearly there, and you can find out for yourself.”
When Rick pulled up to the curb outside of a massive building, Allison’s breath caught roughly in her chest. The concrete building towered high above them, casting an enormous shadow over the street, and there were more windows than Allison could count. She opened the door and stepped out of the car just as Rick was about to grab the door for her.
“Well, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alli,” he said as Allison stood by the car and continued to stare up at the building. “Perhaps I will be seeing you again soon.”
“Yeah.” Allison’s jaw hung slack. She then shook her head and refocused on the man beside her. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just a huge building. Um, thanks for the ride, Rick.” She stuck her hand out, and the man shook it. “You wouldn’t happen to know what I’m supposed to do now, would you?”
“I would wager that going inside might be a good first step.” He winked and then headed back around the car. A moment later, he pulled away and left Allison standing at the curb, still staring up at the building with her heart hammering in her chest.
It took her a few moments to work up the nerve to go inside, but she finally forced her feet to move. She walked a little timidly toward the front desk, where a pale, red-headed woman whose face seemed to be frozen in a pinched sort of scowl while she repeated the same two lines over and over pressed various buttons on a call board. “Yes, I can transfer you. Please hold.”
Allison stood in front of the desk for several minutes, but the woman refused to even acknowledge her. Finally, Allison rolled her eyes and cleared her throat loudly. “Excuse me.”
The receptionist looked up then, arching a brow as her gaze scanned down Allison’s body and back up. It was as if Allison’s attire completely offended her. “Yes?” Her voice dripped with her disapproval and annoyance.
Allison flushed red with her irritation.
“I’m here to see Elena,” she snapped. “Can you tell me where to go?”
“You have an appointment with Miss Vega?”
“I don’t need an appointment, lady,” Allison bit out. “She’s expecting me.”
The receptionist laughed mockingly and shook her head. “I’m sure,” she said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Mm.” The woman hummed disbelievingly, rolling her eyes and ignoring Allison’s question. “Name?”
“Allison Sawyer.”
The receptionist’s eyes widened, brows disappearing into her ginger hairline. “You’re Allison Sawyer?”
Allison took a deep breath to keep herself from outright hissing at the woman before answering through gritted teeth. “Did I stutter?”
The woman pursed her lips almost to the point that the damned things nearly disappeared, but she didn’t respond to Allison’s comment. Instead, she glared at Allison and said “Miss Vega is currently in shoot. Fifteenth floor.”
Allison huffed and stalked off toward the elevators.
* * *
On the fifteenth floor, she stood slack-jawed, taking in the busy scene before her. The room she found herself in was quite large, and the majority of it was covered in intensely white sheets. The sheets blanketed the floor, the walls in places, and provided a massive backdrop behind a gorgeous woman that Allison could only assume was a model. A man flitted around her with a large camera, the rapid clicking sound of the device’s shutter like a swarm of birds all taking off for flight at the same time.
Several people hovered around the edges of the shoot—makeup artists wearing aprons splotched with color stains and sporting cosmetic tools in hand. Other makeup artists were off to the side in a somewhat separate portion of the room, applying face and body touches to other, mostly nude, models. The models were then shuffled over to have their hair picked at by stylists. Some were slipping carefully into various clothing items.
The entire scene was much busier than Allison had ever imagined a photo-shoot to be.
“Are you lost?”
Allison jerked out of her daze and focused on the woman standing in front of her. She was tall and thin, clad in a skin-tight black dress. Her blonde hair fell in neat waves around over her shoulders, and she stared at Allison through her black-rimmed glasses like every second she had to wait for an answer was a year off her life. “What?” Allison asked.
“You. Are you lost, or do you always look like you just landed on another planet?”
“Uh, n-no, no. Sorry. I’ve just never been to one of these before.”
The woman’s eyes scanned down Allison’s body. “Clearly. And you aren’t actually allowed to be in here unless you have business. No Starbucks, so you’re not the coffee girl. No messages, so you’re not the mail girl. No style, so you’re clearly not a model. I’m thinking a call to security is in order.”
Allison took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Seriously?” She groaned. “This shit again? Look, lady, my name is Allison Sawyer. I was invited here by Elena Vega, and I—”
“Sawyer.” Recognition painted the woman’s features. “Right, yes. My apologies.”
Without another word, she scurried away, and Allison was left staring after her, half-stunned, half-pissed. Did anyone in this building have an ounce of decency in them, a modicum of respect? She felt raw and vulnerable, and she couldn’t help but be defensive. These people looked at her like she was a cockroach, and it made her skin crawl. It was a harsh reminder of the two very different worlds she and Elena lived in, and that made Allison feel a little sick to her stomach. She did her best, though, to swallow down the feeling and shake those people off.
As Allison took a moment to collect herself, a voice drifted her way that instantly had a wave of tingles rolling down her spine and pooling at its base. Elena.
Allison’s eyes followed the sound and saw the stunning woman just across the room, her back to Allison, and heatedly discussing something with a man in an olive-toned tweed suit. A smile began to creep onto Allison’s face as she made her way quietly over, ignoring the stares she could feel picking her apart. As she approached, she overheard the conversation Elena was having; well, it was more like a lecture.
“I honestly don’t care about the reason, Monroe,” Elena said. “I have absolutely no time or patience for anyone’s incompetence. We have precisely this one chance to get this right; thus, I want what I asked for, and I want it yesterday. Is that understood?”
The man swallowed thickly before nodding and muttering, “I will call again, and if I have to, I will go over there myself.”
“See that you do.” Elena waved a hand to dismiss him.
He scurried off, and Allison had to force herself not to chuckle at the loud, dramatic sigh Elena let out once the man had disappeared.
“Man.” Allison cleared her throat. “Remind me to always give you whatever it is you want.” Elena’s body stiffened before the woman whirled on the spot and their gazes locked.
“Allison.” A smile touched Elena’s lips. “You made it.”
“Yup,” Allison said. “Big fashion head, huh?”
“I suppose so, yes.” Elena propped a hand on her hip with a smirk and tilted her head toward a small room a few feet away from them. Allison followed her into what she discovered was a massive closet. It was packed with various pieces of clothing. A few women lingered in the room, but Elena dismissed them as well.
“We’re in a closet, Elena.” Allison laughed once the others were gone. “Insert lesbian joke here.”
Elena smiled even as she rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you are here, Allison.”
“Me too, though some of the people here are really hard to like.” She shrugged and shook her head. “Just sayin’, babe. That receptionist lady downstairs is a real bitch.”
“What happened?” Elena asked, stepping closer and running a hand down Allison’s arm. “Did she give you trouble?”
“Only if you call her judgmental face and voice and body language ‘trouble’.” A spark of anger flashed through Elena’s eyes. “And then I got up here, and some lady asked me if I was lost and said I had no style. She threatened to call security on me.”
Elena fumed. “I will have them both fired.”
Allison nearly choked.
“Uh, no, that’s okay,” she said with an awkward laugh. “They’re probably just not used to people coming in here in clothes from the Goodwill and asking to see you.” She chuckled again as she scratched at the back of her neck. “It’s okay. I mean, it sucked, but it is what it is. No need to fire anyone. Thanks though.”
Elena didn’t appear even remotely convinced. In fact, Allison thought she looked downright murderous, so before the woman could go on a firing spree, Allison cleared her throat and nudged Elena’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“It’s not.” She let out a long sigh. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you are, in any way, lesser than me or that you somehow do not fit into my life. So, no, it isn’t okay for anyone to make you feel that way.”
“I’m okay, Elena.”
Elena nodded. “You are now,” she said. “But you weren’t. I saw it in your eyes.”
Allison sighed and relented with a nod. “Yeah,” she admitted, “it got under my skin, but only for like a second, okay? I’m good now.”
“And you know I …” She trailed off, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“You what?” Allison asked. “Do I know that you don’t give a damn about where I buy my clothes or how much money I’ve got in my pocket?”
Elena nodded, glancing to the floor.
“Yeah,” Allison whispered, stepping even closer to kiss the line of Elena’s jaw. “I know, Elena. I just don’t want you to ever feel, you know, embarrassed or something by me.”
Wrapping her arms around Allison, Elena nuzzled her nose against her ear. “Never,” she whispered. “I promise you that, Allison.”
Allison held Elena tightly, breathing in the scent of whatever perfume the woman was wearing. It was rich but not overwhelming, and Allison inhaled it eagerly. She kept her face buried in Elena’s neck as she mumbled, “So, for our second date, you decided to bring me to work with you?”
A light scratch of Elena’s nails along Allison’s scalp made Allison purr. “For our second date, I wanted to share something with you that I am passionate about, which just so happened to entail bringing you to work with me, yes.”
Allison pulled back, smiling as her stomach flipped and her heart stuttered in her chest.
“Stop,” Elena said, blushing.
“Stop what?” Allison asked, her smile only growing.
“Smiling like that.” She chuckled.
“Why?” Allison poked at her ribs. “Is it creepy? Is my smile like totally eating my face right now?”
“Yes.” Elena squirmed under the tickling touch. “You’ve nothing left but eyes and teeth.”
“Oh good! I always wanted to be a living, breathing emoticon. Thanks for that.”
Elena caught Allison’s hands to still the tickling pokes. “It isn’t my fault.”
“It so is. You’re over there being all cute and wanting to share important things with me. Totally worthy of a giant, creepy smile.”
Elena rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she stepped over to the door and motioned for Allison to follow. “Come along, dear. I’ve much to show you.”
Allison followed her out, feeling on top of the world again.
* * *
“That was pretty incredible,” Allison said as she stuck her fork into the small white box of lo mein. She spun the fork several times until it was basically a noodle popsicle and then shoved it into her mouth, moaning at the taste.
She hung out with Elena throughout the entire photo-shoot, learning about the process and Elena’s role in it. It had been incredibly intriguing, entertaining, and also rather arousing to see Elena in her element. The woman was a powerhouse—intelligent and cunning and a force of nature. She knew exactly what she wanted, and people genuinely respected and damn near idolized her opinion. It was pretty amazing to witness.
Once the shoot was over, Elena had taken Allison up to her office on the thirtieth floor where they ordered Chinese delivery for lunch.
“Have you always been into fashion?” Allison asked.
Elena chewed her chicken and swallowed. “My job lands more on the business aspects of the industry, but you really must have a passion for the intricacies in order to appreciate it fully.”
“Like what?”
“Many things, honestly. It is much more complex, more layered than most people realize. It isn’t only a group of size zeroes and twos prancing around in heels and name brands. That is merely what you see on the surface. The process behind it, though, is intricate, and, when you know that process, you come to appreciate the art of fashion. It isn’t merely about clothing, Allison. It’s about creating an image from the ground up or, rather, from the page up. It’s about creating a medium through which people can truly express themselves.”
Allison swore she could listen to Elena Vega talk about fashion all day long every day for the rest of her damned life. The way the woman’s eyes lit up was enough, but it was more than that; it was the way she dug into it. Elena was passionate about the entirety of fashion, not just the finished product. She was invested in it. Her heart was in it, and that was beautiful to witness and to hear her openly express.
“What many don’t realize is that a great portion of fashion lies not with the designs but with those wearing the designs,” Elena said. “For shows and shoots, we bring in people to complement the designs, true, but the designs are created to complement people. That’s what fashion is all about—people. Individuals. It is about finding what makes you you and adorning yourself with the outward expression of it. It is about confidence and self.”
“Confidence?” Allison asked, intrigued. “I always just kind of thought it was about brand. If you’ve got the right brands, people assume you’re fashionable, right?”
“Some people, yes,” Elena answered, taking a sip of her tea. “But frankly, few people know as much about fashion as they like to think they do. Certain labels will gain respect in this industry, that is true, but a label means nothing without the confidence to support it. You must wear the outfit. You mustn’t let the outfit wear you. You can walk down the street in the most ridiculous attire, but if you carry your confidence in your stride, it resonates. That ridiculous outfit becomes fashionable because of you, not because of the design.”
Allison chuckled. “Yeah,” she said, a little in awe of the woman across from her. “Yeah, totally. I’ve never even thought of it that way, but that is so true.”
Elena grinned as she popped a bite of steamed vegetables into her mouth. “I’m sure you have seen some of the positively ludicrous or even horrid designs on the red carpet deemed fashionable or positively to-die-for by the media. Those designs do not, could not, sell themselves. It is the wearer selling the design, not the other way around. That, of course, isn’t to say that some pieces aren’t truly stunning, because the majority of them are, but anyone who believes high-waist shorts and pants are gorgeous designs is severely misguided. Those designs never should have been revived; however, they work. They work because of the confidence carrying them down the runway or down the city street. One can often learn much about another person by his or her attire—the colors, the material, the angling, the patterns, the fit, the style. That, to me, is fashion, Allison. Fashion isn’t clothing. It is people.”
“Fashion is people,” Allison said with a smile.
“Indeed. And people matter; thus, fashion matters as well. It is more important than many ever realize.”
Allison stared at her as if she was some sort of revelation. Elena’s passion for her work was awe inspiring and beautiful to witness.
“What?” Elena blurted.
“Nothing,” Allison said. “You’re just…you’re pretty amazing, you know?”
Elena sucked in a soft breath. “Thank you,” she whispered.
They stared at one another, the air of Elena’s office thickening around them and growing hot. Several moments passed in heated silence before Elena pushed her mostly empty food cartons away and rose to her feet. “Now,” she said, “what do you say we have a little photo-shoot of our own?”
* * *
“Are you sure about this?” Allison asked, glancing nervously around the studio. It was now empty but for herself and Elena, the latter having dismissed all her lingering subjects. “I mean, I’m not very photogenic.”
Elena scoffed. “That is a blatant lie.”
“True,” Allison laughed, joking to enforce a false sense of bravado. “I am pretty cute.” She stood in the middle of the solid-white set, wearing light-wash skinny jeans and a black tank top Elena had provided from the closet. Her feet were as bare as her soul felt in that moment, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she waited for direction from the other woman.
Elena smiled as she stepped over to her, a camera strung around her neck. “Allison,” she cooed, running her hands down Allison’s bare arms, “I would love to photograph you. I’m not much of a photographer, but I know a few things. If you are uncomfortable, though, we certainly do not have to do this. I thought it would be fun.”
“No, it’s cool,” Allison assured, sucking in a steadying breath. “I mean, no harm, right? Plus, you must be pretty attracted to me if you wanna take my picture, right?”
Elena leaned in to press a feather-light kiss to Allison’s lips. “Right.”
“Well then, I’m fine with it,” Allison told her, shrugging. “But don’t expect me to like be good at posing or anything. I think we both know how awkward I am.”
Elena walked slowly backward and away from her. “You aren’t awkward, dear,” she said as she lifted the camera to her face. “You are stunning.”
Before Allison even realized what was happening, Elena began to snap photo after photo. Allison just sort of stood there awkwardly at first, unsure of what to do. She refused to even look at the camera, keeping her head down or simply looking away from Elena. Her hands were stuffed down in her pockets, and one of her knees was bent as she kept her weight steadied mostly on one foot.
“Take your hands out of your pockets, dear. Look toward me.” Elena’s voice called from behind the camera.
Allison did as she was told, still feeling incredibly awkward. She expected Elena to then give her more motion or posing direction, but the woman surprised her.
“Think of your most embarrassing moment.”
“Huh?” Allison asked.
Elena laughed from behind the camera. “I want to shoot your expressions as certain emotions or experiences touch your features.” She crouched a bit and pulled the camera back to her face. “Now, think of your most embarrassing moment.”
Allison had way too many embarrassing moments to think of only one, but as soon as the collective memories began to flood her mind, she heard Elena chuckle again and she assumed that her face was likely bright red.
The more they shot, the more comfortable Allison became, even playfully dramatizing a few of her reactions to Elena’s directions. Elena played along with her.
“Yes, love!” “The camera ADORES you!” “Give it to me!” “Yeeees, yeeees, NO!”
Allison cracked up at her. She flexed her biceps, posed ridiculously like a tiger, and reveled in the way Elena’s voice croaked when she lifted the tank top and flexed her abs for the camera.
“Now, imagine me naked.”
Allison’s brain completely short-circuited. Her mouth went dry, her body quaked, and her flesh heated to an almost unbearable degree. “What?”
Elena carefully set the camera down and began to slowly make her way toward Allison. As she walked, she began to pop open the buttons at the top of her gray silk blouse. Patches of creamy flesh were revealed, and Allison’s body began to throb, a flood of moisture pooling between her legs.
“Elena.” Her voice squeaked, her face flooded in crimson. Elena gazed at her with dilated pupils, her lips slightly parted. She reached Allison just as the final button slipped free and opened to reveal a smooth expanse of flesh—a beautifully toned stomach and full, round breasts cupped deliciously inside a charcoal-colored lace bra. Allison’s head swam dizzily at the sight, her senses overloaded.
“Allison,” Elena whispered in return, drawing so close that Allison could feel the static on her skin.
Their eyes met for one gloriously charged moment before they simultaneously dove into one another, lips smacking together roughly. It was fast and hot and messy—teeth and tongues and noses clashing as they tried desperately to get closer to one another. Allison’s hands wasted no time in exploring the exposed flesh of Elena’s stomach, her fingertips making patterns over heated skin. They both moaned at the sensation and pressed harder still.
Allison suddenly pulled back, just an inch, and locked eyes with a very flushed Elena. “Elena, you sure? You sure you don’t wanna wai—”
“No.” Elena dug her hands into Allison’s long golden hair. Her lips were practically molten as she slid them up the length of Allison’s slender neck and hovered over her ear. “No more waiting.”
