Waiting for Tuesday
Taylor Sullivan
But the night I met John Eaton I felt that stability crumble. His smile was a mixture of little boy and pure devil at the same time. Handsome and charming, I knew his type, knew the sort of games that came with men like him.
So I pushed. But he pulled harder. I tried to fight it, to shove away the connection that clawed at my heart, but it was too late. Roots dug in, grew deep, and twisted. John fell for me, and I for him. He was impossible to resist. I was his.
But a secret is a dangerous thing. Held too long, it can rip a life apart.
Destroy the man I loved.
Destroy us.
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