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I’d deny it in the future, but my first thought was that he smells like home.
Anders basically looks like a Nordic prince, with a jawline so strong it could cut glass. His dirty blond hair is slightly messy, enough to grab a fist full of, but not enough to put into a hair tie.
He has dark hair that can be pushed behind his ears, honey brown eyes, and facial hair that is trimmed short to his jaw. Pretty much the quintessential bad boy look.
Yup, Charlotte, we’ve made the right choice. Even if I’m a princess for just a few weeks, it’s better than not being one at all.
I don’t know why I like it so much, but as I stare down at her, I’m in awe. She’s my fucking scent match.
I keep the thought to myself, so I don’t scare the shit out of her, but there’s no way she’s going to be my friend. She’s going to be so much fucking more.
“Does it have to do with the way I’m feeling?” he asks, his voice soft. “How do you feel?” “Like I just met you, but you’re mine. Like my sole focus is to please you and make you comfortable. Like I’m craving fucking pancakes and maple syrup.”
And second, listening to you fuckers eat in such a small, confined space is my personal nightmare.”
Yessssssssssss Absolutely
“Tu la touches encore et je te casse les doigts, asshole.” Mikael shoves him one more time until
“This cunt belongs to me now, mon sucre d’érable. I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to be a good Omega and take what I give you.”
