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Would it be inappropriate to propose to a man while he’s in the middle of threatening someone’s life? It would be a hell of a story to tell at our wedding, if nothing else.
Maybe a marriage proposal is too much, but what’s the etiquette on buying a man a drink after stopping him from cutting out someone’s tongue with a broken bottle?
Except, you can’t just leave dead bodies piled in baskets in your bedroom until you get around to dealing with them. Looking at you, Dahmer.
It only takes me a few seconds to decide I’m done playing by his rules… at least when it comes to this. If he has other rules, I’m happy to discuss them. Preferably naked.
“You’re a sweet little murder marshmallow, aren’t you?” I tease gently,
“I kind of like you too,” he confesses, and a grin tugs at my lips. “Thank fuck for that. Otherwise the stalking and kidnapping would’ve been way out of line.”
Waking up as the big spoon to a big, tough mobster who’s purring softly in his sleep is a kind of fucking heaven I probably don’t deserve.
If anyone knows how to blow shit up, it’s Sal. Buildings, cars, his own relationships, he can do it all without breaking a sweat.

