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“Please don’t tell me ‘pulled some strings’ is a euphemism for ‘sucked his cock.’”
So pack your condoms and sluttiest clothes, bitch, ’cause we’re about to fuck some Greek gods.”
“Don’t you dare judge my smutty books or the stickers on my case,” I call over my shoulder. My newest sticker, from a niche romance bookstore in Brooklyn reads Begging for a Pegging.
I don’t know how you like your coffee.” “Black. Like my soul.” I laugh. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Trust me, sweetheart, there’s nothing black about your soul.”
“She said that when we’re driving toward our destination in the dark, even with the headlights on, we can only see a few yards in front of us.” Millie’s genuine smile encourages me to continue. “Anything beyond the headlights is dark. We can’t see whether there’s a bridge ahead, and we can’t tell if the road will be closed. We don’t know yet. But despite the uncertainty, we keep driving.”
“We don’t know what’s at the end of the road, but we look out our window and embrace the journey. One step at a time, boo.”
“Scout’s honor.” He holds three fingers high in the air. “That’s the volunteer sign from The Hunger Games, not the Boy Scouts’ sign, you nerd,” I laugh.
“Did you just sniff my armpit?” he laughs. I don’t pull away. “I’m making a memory.” It’s said that a person’s sense of smell has the power to trigger emotion and memories. I never want to forget how I feel right now. It’s not enough that I’m pressed against his bare skin; I want to be in his skin.
“I love you too,” he whispers into my soul.
