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What the hell is wrong with me? I should want someone who treats me like a queen. Who’s gentle and kind. Not someone who’s jealous and possessive and beats the shit out of a guy just so I can’t fuck him again.
A primal urge to take care of her sweeps through my veins. To protect her in public so she’ll worship me for it in private.
You think you’re lucky just to have a man glance your way, when really a man would be lucky to fall to his knees before you. You think you’re the type of girl who should only want the things that are sweet and nice, even if that’s not what you really want deep down. You’re an iceberg girl—most people only get to see the five percent that’s on the surface, what you choose to show them. But there’s a lot more to you hiding underneath.”
You’re afraid of being hurt again. But that’s life, sweetheart. You’ve got to risk your heart if you ever want to find the person who deserves it.
Because if you let yourself want something, if you put your heart on the line again and it breaks, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to fix it.”
“I don’t do sweet and gentle,” he warns. “If you’re looking for a prince, he’s not me. I want my belt around your throat. I want to fuck you so hard, your nails leave scars on my back. If I kiss you, you’re mine.”
“To Wes, you are the reason I could write a happy ending.”

