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There's an entire ocean before me that deserves my reverence, yet all I want to do is give it to her.
She smells of the ocean, and I fucking hate it. It's my favorite scent, and she doesn't deserve to wear it.
Her eyes fill with tears halfway through my tangent, and fuck if it doesn’t make me want to both throttle her and take back everything I said. She’s got me so twisted, I can’t get my head straight. How is it that I want to hurt her, yet protect her from my own damn self?
And I hate her even more in this moment. Because the longer I stare at her, the harder it is to fucking breathe. It’s enraging that she has that control over me—that she holds so much power, she can suck the oxygen from my body like it’s hers to wield.
“You’re not weak, Sawyer. You’re exceptional. And I’m sorry I ever validated that misconception.”
I hate you,”
Fuck, I hate you, too, baby.”
“Do you think I’d be happier if I lived in another world?”
“Maybe. But I wouldn't be.”
“Choose to live, bella. Choose me.”
He doesn’t know it, but in this very moment, I am choosing him.
Can she see a man falling in love with a little thief? Can she see that I don’t want to but will submit to it anyway? Just as I’m submitting to her now.
