?” Your question hung in the air, not really asked to or of anyone, but somewhere between being rhetorical and a statement. I didn’t reply, partly...because it went without saying but mostly because my mouth was cotton-dry from you seemingly reading my mind in that moment. Tension now filled the empty room, yet we were still the only two bodies there, mere inches between us, still fixated on the rain lashing down outside. All I wanted to do was turn and kiss you. Take you into arms and show you. And interesting. I could turn around and fuck another man and feel only a faint burn of regret that Mark would finally have proof I could be a villain, too. What did that say about any of us?When I parked my car in front of Patricia's perfect house, I realized I was doing just what Mark accused me of—I was forcing him into the role of the villain, blaming him for fucking some faceless woman he'd never love, either. Someone I didn't envy, if she did exist, because I'm sure she loved him, the. More

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