“Are you gonna fucking say it back?” he asks softly. I bend, kissing his mouth then his chin where his short beard prickles. Then, I kiss down his chest, the salt of his sweat on my lips. His body ripples with tension as my lips brush his upper abdominals, and my nails pierce his sides. “I love you, Westin,” I whisper into his warm body, into the heart of him. “I choose you.”
