Finding Cinderella (Hopeless, #2.5)

by Colleen Hoover

her laugh is cut short when I press my thumb to the center of her lips. “Before your breaths pick up pace and our bodies are aching because everything we’re feeling is just making us want more and more and more of each other. Until I’m afraid I’ll beg you not to ask me to slow down. So instead, I regrettably tear my mouth from yours and force myself away from your bed and you lift up unto your elbows and look at me, disappointed, because you kind of wished I would have kept going, but at the same time you’re relieved I didn’t, because you know you would have given in. So instead of giving in, we just stare. We watch each other silently as my heart rate begins to slow down and your breaths are easier to catch and the insatiable need is still there, but our minds are clearer now that I’m not pressed against you anymore. I turn around and walk to your window and leave without even saying good-bye, because we both know if either of us speaks… it’ll be the collective demise of our willpower and we’ll cave. We’ll cave so hard.”

Wtf is this, my dude. If a guy spilled this monologue to me I would run away.