With every passing day, I hated Adam Connor even more; how that was even possible…don’t ask me. It had somehow started to become a passion of mine. Why? Because he was…a sly bastard, because he worked out shirtless in his backyard, because he made his son laugh, because his arms were all masculine and sexy, because his arms were peppered with hair, because there was something called forearm porn, because his voice had the ability to give you tiny orgasms, annoying tiny orgasms that forced you to cross your legs or apply some kind of sneaky pressure. I hated those orgasms; they left me unsatisfied and only reminded me that I hadn’t had sex in weeks. Weeks, I tell ya! Leave sex aside, I hadn’t even had a kiss. A freaking innocent kiss. Can you even imagine what that does to a girl? Your body reacts differently to all kinds of things.
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