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“Are you saying that I’m… visible?” “No, Violet, I’m not saying that you’re visible. I’m saying that you’re the only thing that a man sees. I’m saying that you’re a thing that drives a man to distraction. You make him forget what’s right and what’s wrong. You’re a thing so terrible and beautiful and fucking breathtaking that he can’t escape you. He can’t think of anything else, not about his job, his responsibilities, his promises, his family, nothing but you. You undo him. You make him helpless. You turn him into an animal who wants to rut. You’re a girl who makes a man go bad.”
“Because you’re my Jailbait.” He presses the pads of his fingers on the apple of my cheek as he continues, “And I’ll destroy anyone who dares to hurt you. All the people who made you feel less and called you names for that kiss. Everyone.
“I’ll keep you here, you understand?” he whispers, penetrating my soul with his gaze that surprisingly looks very clear and alert despite his heavy, erotic breathing. “I’ll keep you safe, in my lap. I’ll hide you in my arms. No one will hurt you, baby. Ever. No one will ever make you feel scared. I won’t let them.”
Love isn’t about asking someone to love you back. It’s about loving. It’s about finding that thing you love and letting it kill you because you’re going to die anyway. And what better way to go than at the hands of someone you love.
“Even when I don’t? Even when I can’t. Even after I told you a million goddamn times that I’m never going to love you, you still love me.” A tear makes its way down my cheek and he follows its journey with a harsh, tormented expression. “Yes,” I whisper. “I do.” “Why?” “Because I always have. Right from the start. Because you make me feel safe. Protected and warm. And because love isn’t about asking someone to love you back. It’s about… loving. It’s about jumping off a cliff with both arms open wide and hoping that those arms become wings and you can fly. But even if you can’t and you hit the
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How did I not know that falling in love is an act of bravery? Giving someone your heart, putting it right at their feet, feet that wear big, threatening hiking boots, is called being brave.
But he doesn’t smile, no. He doesn’t break his focus or his intensity. He keeps looking at me, wanting me to understand. “So you don’t have to love me, Violet,” he continues with a low tone. “Because I love you enough for the both of us. And I’m gonna learn to show that, all right? I promise you that. I’m going to learn to show my love to you. It might not happen overnight, but I’ll keep at it. All I want is for you to trust me. Just trust me.”
