This is so foreign. And I adore every single second. “We’re not having sex yet, so store that fantasy for later, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. I smile. No pain. It’s drowned beneath my arousal. Ryke says sweetheart with so much force that it conflicts with the mildness of the word. I wonder if that’s us. Soft to his hard. Sweet to his rough. Wild to his stone. I like it.
