“But is it enough for you?” The words were hard to say. His throat felt like sandpaper. Am I enough? Jordan looked at him seriously. “It is,” he said, his voice soft. “I’d prefer your fucked-up version of love to the sweetest, most conventional love lavished on me by another person. Because it’s you. And you’re more than enough. You’re what I need to feel enough.” Damiano tightened his arms. “I’ll do better,” he said roughly. “I’ll try for you.”
