Burning Passion: Love Never Die

The pic she sent was a selfie. She sat in front of her dressing table, in a strapless peach nightgown. Her dark, lustrous hair, which was usually tied up, fell loose around her shoulders. She wore no makeup except the Lipstick Wesley bought her.

Wesley’s hand shook a little, and the enlarged image snapped back to its normal size.

“You’re quiet. That bad? Never mind. I’ll take it down,” Blair said.

Before she deleted the pic, Wesley saved it.

“I just wanted to let you know that not all lipstick is red. This one is buttermilk with a brownish tint. You can call it a Mocha Lipstick shade.”

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Holding his phone in his Left hand, and a cigarette between his fingers of his right, Wesley leaned against the wall with his eyes closed.

about was Blair. She filled his head. Her

Every

finger slid across the screen of his phone. He found the picture and stared

missed her so much,

was like a slap in the face. Blair felt

the makeup remover, she grabbed a cotton swab and started to remove the lipstick. She was frustrated, angrily wiping her

deep under the rest of the detritus in there. Behind the suntan lotion, underneath the loofah, mixed in with all the other shades she

to bed,

sleep seemed reluctant to visit. She tossed and turned in bed, wondering why

her phone buzzed, she jerked up like a spring and reached for her

and put her phone to

nice,” he said. He was breathing heavily,

Blair thought the world was bright