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There’s something about a man who is damn good at what he does that holds an appeal for me. Every step is sure. Practiced. Full of confidence.
I fall asleep like that, lulled by the gentle steady sounds of him, by the solid comfort of him.
I want to take care of her, even though she doesn’t need taking care of.
“Having you think I’m out fucking everything that moves when I’ve looked at nothing and no one since the first day I laid eyes on you. I stepped into that godforsaken boardroom, and you practically demanded I become obsessed with you.”
“You’ve always had my attention, Rhett.” Her confession comes out quiet and soft. Like a secret shared between lovers. And like a balm to my deepest wounds.
“You’ve got me, Princess. Only you, I promise,”
“But I want to make one thing clear. I am not possessive. I am protective. And I’ll never stop protecting you. I’d hit that fucker again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping him from talking to you that way.”
Because as much as I want to, I can’t rely on a man who’s so busy not caring what anyone thinks that he’ll hurt me to prove the point.
Rhett might be a little rough around the edges, but maybe you smooth him out and he scuffs you up. I don’t know. Only you can make these decisions.
Choosing each other. Finding each other. Showing up for each other. And everything about the moment is flawless.
We’re here, choosing each other every damn day. And I want to choose her for the rest of my life.
She and I really are binary stars, stuck in each other’s orbit, drawn together by forces we can’t see or understand—but that we can feel.
