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How could he not, when he watched her constantly, when he noticed the pattern of her fucking breaths, when sometimes he felt like he could hear her heart beating?
Samir’s eyes slid shut as if blocking out the sight of her could block out everything else. As if he could ignore his inconvenient adoration, or the surge of anticipation flooding his veins. He had to be careful. This could all go dangerously wrong. He could be dangerously wrong, to hear that word and think it meant she wanted him. ‘Perfect’ could mean anything. The low, husky tone of her voice could mean anything.
“What does that even mean? A bit much? You’re already everything.” She turned
“Good. I want to complicate things with you. I want us tied together in a knot so indecipherable, people look at us and can’t imagine how we’d ever come apart.”
His chest hurt. Apparently, being hopelessly in love kind of felt like a heart attack.
He couldn’t punch a wall ever again, actually. He couldn’t even slice up onions like a madman. He could never come close to losing his temper, Samir decided, because he would rather die, boiled alive from the inside out by pent-up rage, than ever do anything to make Laura flinch, or hesitate, or remember.
noticed that you’re funny,” he said wryly. “And, yeah, a little bit evil. All the best people are.”
“God, you feel good,” he muttered, his breath coming in pants. “Gonna feel so fucking amazing on my dick…”
“Yours cooks, too, then? Excellent choice. Very wise, very wise indeed.”
Happiness had been one hell of a surprise.
