Mixologist

It started off as a game, sending a pic anonymously. All I'd planned to do was ruffle her feathers, maybe make her blush with embarrassment and possibly desire. I sure as hell had no intention of falling for her.

Although I fantasized about her being beneath me, watching her unravel, that would never happen anywhere other than in my wet dreams. Bronwyn James was fine wine to my cheap beer—the two didn't mix in polite society without a hangover.

But on Snapchat, we were equals. Social and econ...