The empty glass makes a heavy sound when DeMar sets it on the top of the dresser. “So, what’ve you been up to?”
“Nothing much.” Josh can’t quite meet DeMar’s steady gaze. “What about you? You seem…I don’t know. You seem like you’re doing well.”
“I am,” DeMario agrees. “Not perfect, mind you, but who is?”
Josh shrugs. Sure as hell not him
Suddenly DeMar trails a hand down Josh’s arm. The innocent touch sends flames of desire licking through Josh’s body. “I could be perfect,” DeMar whispers. He lets the sentence trail off, leaving the thought unfinished.
Josh gulps down his drink. “I never made you perfect. I couldn’t—God, Mari, don’t you remember the fights we had? The constant bickering, the arguments? That wasn’t perfect.”