“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says. The words are dark and full of gravel, promising pain untold. “There’s only so much of me a person can take before it starts to hurt, Little E. And no, I am not talking about my dick.” He smirks ruthlessly. “My heart’s a grenade. It’s safer where it is, locked in its cage. You take it outta there and you’re essentially pulling the pin.” “What happens then?” I’m shaking all over. Wren’s reached the bottom of the bed. He lets go of his straining erection and places his hands on my ankles, curling his fingers around them tightly. “I don’t know. No
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