Blame It on the Mistletoe de Eli Easton
Fielding stood there staring at me. His eyes were wide, his irises nearly eclipsed by pupil. His mouth was slightly open, red from kissing, and emitting soft pants. Even in the moonlight, I could see a patchy red flush of arousal on the pale skin of his throat. Oh, fuck. He looked so openly bewildered and lost in desire that it took every ounce of will I had not pull him back in and kiss him again.
Superhero de Eli Easton
I started to think that maybe there was something different about me. And that maybe my friendship with Owen was a lot more complicated than I’d thought it was. I had a pretty good idea that I shouldn’t want the things that were starting to itch around inside me. I heard other guys talk about girls, and I wondered when I would start feeling that way about them.