Lightning stared at her phone.
And then she stared at it some more.
But despite her best efforts, a solid hour of staring had not magically inspired Fang to call her although she wasn’t about to stop. Perhaps glaring might work better than staring? Damn it. Two weeks without the other woman had left Lightning feeling all… fidgety. Oh, whom was she kidding? She wasn’t feeling fidgety at all. She was feeling horny. Really. Damn. Horny.
And it was all Fang’s fault, that stupid, sexy, loveable idiot. It made Lightning want to do all sorts of extremely wicked things to her and bash her head in – possibly at the same time. No, she’d do the horribly wicked things first.
Lightning had never been this way in any of her previous relationships. Oh, she’d had girlfriends in the past. She’d even had sex with a few of them. But she’d never craved any of them the way she craved Fang, and she’d certainly never spent an hour staring at her phone hoping they would call.
It was pathetic, and she felt like a damn lovesick teenager. Stupid Fang. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t been so… so Fang, then Lightning wouldn’t be feeling this way, and everything would be fine. She’d able to crash in front of the television, put her feet up, and spend the night watching some brainless action movie without constantly looking at her phone.
Fang and Lightning try to “connect” over the phone. It goes less than well.
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