Her kiss was one that poets try to describe with no success. The softness of those lips, the electricity in her touch, the warmth, the gentleness of h...r embrace were all sucking me down into a permanent abyss of unquenchable romantic love. It was like part of me was outside myself, watching me drowning in Deirdre. Have you ever said to yourself, “This is going to kill me” and went right ahead and did it anyway? That was me with Deirdre. This relationship was going nowhere. Deirdre doesn’t do. He then fell back in to determined, hard-core tennis player mode. No, she definitely wasn’t imagining it. Brook was actually a little jealous about the tennis game. He was giving it every ounce of his attention, his focus, and his total physical abilities. She wanted that. She didn’t know what she would do with it once she had it, but she wanted it. She watched the game intently trying to feign interest in the tennis and not in the player. She was really just waiting for the game to end so she. More

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