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“I think you want a guy who pushes you. A guy who eggs you on. A guy who doesn't let you barrel over him. Someone who looks at you like an equal. Someone who challenges you.”
“You want a guy who can break you, Blake,” he rasps, his voice low and gritty and shooting straight to my core. “One who grabs you by the throat and squeezes as he enters you. One who treats you like you aren’t made of glass. You’re different than other girls.”
And all I want in a partner is exactly that. Someone who accepts me. Someone who looks at me like I’m sexy and feminine even when I’m covered in grass stains from a quick game of football in the quad. Is that so hard?
