“You don’t know me,” I whispered, my voice shaking. His eyes softened, but not much. “I want to know you. I want to know the passions and secrets behind those mesmerizing blue eyes. I want to know everything that makes you smile. I brought you tulips because I saw how happy they made you at the Farmer’s Market. I stood in the shadows and watched your beautiful face somehow become even more stunning as you smiled. My eyes want to see that smile every fucking chance I can get. I want to know what makes you laugh; I want to drown in the sound of it. Hell, baby, I want to be the reason,” he
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