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I swear, good men only exist in books. Specifically, books written by women.
“Jesus Christ,” she whispers. “Nope. Just a couple demons, making sure you end up in hell with us for all of eternity.”
“Wren?” I hear Elliot say. “Are you okay?” I turn, ripping the curtains open with a grin. “It has pockets!”
He pulls me in with a hand on the back of my neck and kisses me, soft and slow. When he pulls away, he smiles. “I’ll come back in one piece. Promise.”
“Jesus,” Oliver mutters. “You can reason with this fuckwit? Shit. Now we’re never letting you go.”
“I know I’m not the best when it comes to affection, or a lot of emotions. But I want to be a safe person for you. I know this is all overwhelmingly fast for you, but I want to make this work. And last. So please—if I’m ever not giving you what you need from me, just tell me. I’ll do anything to keep you, Wren. Including holding you while you cry, however often that ends up being.”
