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The weird fluttering feeling low in my stomach—that I’m starting to learn is in fact metaphorical butterflies—happens again. I know this because I googled it to make sure there wasn’t anything medically wrong with me. “Actually, she’s stalking me.”
“The only plans I had were with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.”
Only that isn’t really true, though, is it? I can’t steal something that’s already mine.
Yes. Get mad, baby. Push me. See what happens.
She spits in my face, and while I wipe it off, my brain empties of every single thought except one: I think I fucking love this woman.
“Did you fucking kidnap me?” One sentence I never thought I’d say. “Think of it as protective custody.” His lip twitches in amusement.
“Because I chose to protect you over family—the previous most important thing to me—the Bratva will now be after you. They think I took someone precious from them, and now they will try to take someone precious from me.” “So, what now? I’m just going to be locked up in here with you like some princess in a tower.” “No, baby. You’re a queen.”
“If you’re gonna eye-fuck me all morning, you should at least buy me dinner first.”
“We’re endgame, baby, and if you don’t see that, you better put that bullet in my head right now because I’m gonna ruin all other men for you when I worship every inch of your body.”
“You belong to me as surely as the heart that beats in this chest belongs to me.”
I’m not a religious man, but goddamn if she didn’t make me want to drop to my knees in worship.
“I’m a businessman.” She rolls her eyes. “You fucking roll your eyes at me again, I’ll take you across my knee and turn your sweet ass bright red. And you know I’ll enjoy every second of it, so go ahead. Call my bluff, baby.”
“You’re mine, Harlow. My woman, my property, my queen, my fucking whore, if I so choose.”
