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“You and I both know this is the shit we live for. The adrenaline. The rush. The fucking hunt that lets us unravel.”
“I don’t just love her. That woman owns me, brother. And it’s fucking with my head because, for the first time in my goddamn life, I know what it feels like to fear losing someone.”
“Then what the hell are we supposed to do?” “It’s easy. Accept that you’re my wife, that you’re having my children, and that there is nothing in this entire goddamn world that will change that. Ever.”
“No, you don’t. Feel how wet you are for me.” His finger sinks deeper, and I arch my back against him. “You want me inside you, don’t you, stray?” “What I want is irrelevant. What I need is to get the fuck away from you.” His fingertip brushes over my clit, and I bite my lip, stifling a moan. “Then run,” he murmurs against my ear. “See what happens when I catch you.”
“You are mine, and I am yours. There is nothing that can change that. I don’t care if you villainize me for the rest of your goddamn life, I will not let you go.”
“Right now.” He leans closer, and I can smell his cologne, the whiskey on his breath. “Right now, I want you to let me fuck you until you see fucking stars. And once I’ve made you come, and I’m done staring at your creamed pussy, I want you to tell me how much you love me. That you’ll stop fighting what you feel for me. Then I’m going to watch your tits get larger.” He reaches down and cups my breast, squeezing before dragging his hand to my stomach, flattening his palm. “I’m going to watch your belly grow and feel my babies move inside you, knowing they are the best parts of both of us.”
The air in the room is still. Quiet. It still smells like the incense my mother would burn here—cinnamon, supposedly known for its ability to stimulate power toward wealth, prosperity, and business success. To four young boys, it meant pancakes.
‘Love is not the butterflies you feel when you’re with someone. It’s the brokenness you experience when you’re apart.’
“Ask me for ashes, and I will burn the world to the ground. Ask me for blood, and I will slaughter every man from here to Bangkok and bring you their hearts. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
“Love is not the butterflies you feel when you’re with someone. It’s the brokenness you experience when you’re apart.”
“I would rather live with the burden of loving you than suffer without you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “For what?” Clutching Aria tight, I place my other palm on Leandra’s cheek. “For unraveling with me.”
