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“My smell. Do I smell like . . . ?” “Mine.” It’s a rumble in his throat. “You smell like you’re mine, Misery.”
“You think, but you don’t know. You don’t know anything about what it’s like to find your other half,” he continues, voice low and sharp. “I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world. I would take her for a single night knowing that I’ll lose her by morning, and I would hold on to her and never let go. I would take her healthy, or sick, or tired, or angry, or strong, and it would be my fucking privilege. I would take her problems, her gifts, her moods, her passions, her jokes, her body—I would take every last thing, if she chose to give it to me.”
Ok… I get it. 😮💨😮💨🥵
“Above all, I won’t take her freedom. Not when so many others have already done so.”
The selfless love …really secure man that Lowe is.
The timbre of his voice is rough and low. “You smell like you just came.” I stare back, speechless at his directness. I did just come. “And I need to eat you out.” He needs to. “Okay?” “It’s a Were thing,” he says, almost apologetic. I nod, and when he bends to nip at my hipbone, I close my eyes and welcome it: the stretch of my thighs as they are spread out, the hitch of his breath as he looks and looks and looks some
Of only there were Inter Species Were Dating app.
“Of all the good things I’ve felt in my fucking life, you are the best.”
