His next words are a murmur, as if he’s muttering his innermost thoughts while his thumb continues to wander over my lip. “Will you forever be the prize I am aimlessly trying to win?” I inhale sharply, staring him down as I say, “Is that all I am to you? A trophy?” A small smile twitches his lips as he shakes his head at me. “Oh, darling, a trophy implies that I won it, earned it, deserve it.” He leans in farther, a certain reverence reflecting in his gaze. “But if I get to have you, it will be because you let me.”
