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Yeah. Tabitha, sister of my new tenant, is hot, looks like she thinks I might have bodies buried in my basement, and has a mean handshake. Strangely, I’m into it.
Fucking Scotty. If it’s got a heartbeat, he’ll try to have sex with it.
This woman needs a target for her anger. Someone to blame so that she hurts a little less. And without even thinking it through, I decide I can be that person for her.
“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me being a porn star. If you want to see me fuck someone, the bathroom is right there. Drag me in there right now, and you can watch in the mirror while I bend you over.”
Rhys has always given off big dick energy. But I know now it’s not so much energy as big dick knowledge. Big dick surety? Big dick guarantee.
Or maybe you don’t understand my love language? Rhys: Is it pettiness? Tabby: “Pettiness is my love language.” I’d wear that shirt!
Thank you, sir. Will you please twist my panties and whisper something dirty in my ear one last time before I go?
“Tabby, I’m not the kind of guy who fucks around. So you can make up all the rules you want, but I’ll be following my own. And that rule is that there won’t be anyone else while I’m wearing this ring.”
Part of what I love about being a chef is feeding people. Providing nourishment is my way of showing I care.
The two of you are like a fungus. I can’t get rid of you, so I’ve just learned to like you.
Rhys: Tabby. Our marriage is one big extenuating circumstance. I’m not sure you could call us a family. Tabby: Rhys. I’ll call us a family if I want to.
Tabby: Nah. Millions of people are wrong. You’re actually married to a short, flat-chested, prickly chef from Buttfuck Nowhere, Canada. HAHA. Joke’s on them. Rhys: No. I’m married to a mega-hot brunette who makes the best carbonara in the world.
Does love start off as obsession? Because that’s what I am.
