He wants to be called cute nicknames, but he doesn’t want to walk hand in hand in the park. He...” Aron stopped with a small huff. “And I’m ju...t ... trying to make sense of everything. And I know that, somehow, it’s still my fault.”Carter could not stand this. Not seeing his best friend beating himself up over some fashion addict with a penchant for torturing every living soul in his path.“It’s not your fault,” he said with determination, his hands curling into fists, pressed against his. Actually when I did that I turned and gave him a huge smile afterwards and his mouth was splayed as wide as I'd have liked my thighs to have been. Oh, and the other day I did the "Ooopps, how did that button comeundone" as I leaned over his desk and, come to think of it, that was the day when all the bras seemed to have disappeared from my underwear drawer and I'd forced myself to risk attending work improperly dressed. Grin. Naughty me. Picture; me half bent over the photocopier, wiggling my. More

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