Ashton Barclay, or as I like to call him, Mr. B. for "Bossy", is fast becoming the bane of my existence. After running into him, literally, he’s now popping up everywhere and somehow managing to weave his way into my life. He’s egotistical, smug, and so ridiculously good-looking it should be illegal - he’s way too hot to handle. I don’t do hot, those type of guys are more trouble than they’re worth. Although, I’d secretly love to do him. We’ve kissed once - it was smokin’, and led to me dry humping his leg in front of the entire club like a shameless hussy. Oh, and did I mention I deep-throated his thumb within seconds of meeting him, and I didn’t even know his name. Apparently, I have issues. Big ones. He makes me do things I never imagined myself doing. He makes me feel things I’m not comfortable feeling. It just wouldn’t work, even if I wanted it to. Between us, we have more baggage than a carousel at LAX airport. He’s everything I want but can never have. Or so I thought.