Page 111 of The Perfect Wrong


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For the next week, that’s okay.

Thank Godwe still have a week.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and that goes double for us.

Forthis.

I want to see more of the town if we can do it safely in daylight, and try to forget about my traumatic encounter with Sin City.

On the other hand, if Chris keeps me chained to this bed...

I won’t complain.

Somehow, we have to work out a lifetime of passionate, gravity-defying sex here.

Because it’s all we’ll ever get.

The last time already feels like it’s over too fast.

And it is.

But we can’t possibly keep this going when we’re back in California.

This is it.

One chance to get Chris Triton out of my system.

Is it even possible?

The answer scares me when I search my depths.

In the meantime, though, I’ll run my body ragged trying, and deal with the bitter fallout and a lifetime of cruel memories later.

* * *

I wakeup the next morning rubbing my eyes.

There’s something warm and huge wrapped around me, and it’s very good at making me smile.

I roll toward him and reach for his tattooed arm, giving it a tender squeeze.

I need proof that this isn’t just a fever dream.

Holy crap, it’s real.

All of it.

Chris grunts in his sleep, his lips curled adorably and his sandy-dark hair a lovely mess. He’s a total teddy bear when he’s sleeping peacefully.

The glorious memories of last night don’t hurt like they should. Part of me feared I’d be flattened by regrets as soon as I woke up.

No, this just feels too right—and that’s what worries me.

A hole opens in my stomach, knowing our paradise is only temporary.

It can’t be anything else.

Las Vegas is our break from reality, and soon we’ll be returning to the numbing, senseless rules and obligations that are destined to keep us apart.

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