The Belle and the Beard (The Santillian Triplets, #3)

by Kate Canterbary

Into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul. ~ John Muir

"I'm not comfortable with you being right," she replied. "It's like writing with the wrong hand."

And I still wanted to bite that pout.

Yeah, she could crack the earth open. She could snap me in half. She could do anything she wanted and I'd let her. I'd fucking let her.

"You'll have to suffer, then." I kissed her hair again because she was right there and I couldn't have her right there without kissing her. I could not.

"Nothing blooms in every season," I said. "You shouldn't expect that of yourself when it doesn't occur in nature."