She turned and opened the refrigerator to avoid looking at the hurt in his eyes. “I don’t know anything. She doesn’t confide in me.” “You li...e with her. You must know something.” She jumped when she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Look at me, Maggie.” She reluctantly turned, shutting the refrigerator. “Dave, please. I don’t—” Without even thinking about it he brushed a stray strand of wet hair from her face. “Don’t want to hurt me? Jenna’s already doing that, not you. It wasn’t as if I didn’t. Who cares, really? Two chapters later, she realized she’d been subconsciously squeezing her thighs together, trying to put pressure on her clitoris. She sighed quietly and looked around again. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her, least of all the woman sitting a few feet away, whose nose was buried in a worn copy of Anna Karenina. Miranda thought for a moment, and then realized this was a prime opportunity to try something she’d wanted to for a long time, but never had the right. More

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