Fevered Hours
A stolen afternoon, a raging desire, and two hearts on fire.
My name is Emily, but to him, I was never simply Emily. I was his “sex kitten,” a secret whispered against my skin, his voice a low caress tracing a possessive path down my neck. We were barely out of our teens, hungry and reckless in the way only young lovers can be. After college, in the quiet, whilst my parents were away, he slipped into my bedroom, the sanctuary for all we dared not voice. I wore my shortest skirt, ba...