Made For Each Other

Anna Claire Clouds bumped into Vince Karter in Paris a few months back. One look and she was sunk—he had the jawline, the confidence, the whole package. They clicked like magnets, right up until she had to hop on a plane. Fast-forward to now: Vince is here on business, and the second Anna hears he's in town she knows one dinner could turn into round two between the sheets. She pictures his hands on her hips, remembers exactly how good it felt when he slid inside her that first night. If they start, they won't stop—clothes will hit the floor, tongues tangled, bodies rocking until the headboard bangs the wall and neither of them cares who hears. Anna’s pretty sure they’re stupid in love, and that’s the best kind of stupid there is.