|Mirror [#1]||Impasse.pdf||26,680 KB/Sec|
|Mirror [#2]||Impasse.pdf||26,894 KB/Sec|
|Mirror [#3]||Impasse.pdf||31,410 KB/Sec|
I swear to God on my parent’s graves that I had no plans for a hookup when I left the house.
Zero. Nada. None.
I assumed I’d get buzzed on a few drinks, look at the stars above Hollywood from the hillside party house, look at the actual movie stars dancing inside, then go back to my post divorce celibacy.
However alcohol and common sense are sworn enemies. So when my ex’s former intern wandered on the deck and wrapped me in his warm leather jacket, I was hooked.
Despite our age difference, I found myself on his living room floor, his head between my…you get the picture.
We made a deal…friends with benefits. That was all well and really, really effing good until he went from hookup buddy to baby daddy. I just have to work up the courage to tell him or dump him. I want this baby, but don’t want to tie Nick down when his life is just getting started…