He always thought he was too rough, too aggressive. He thought I was small and fragile despite the fact I was neither of those things, but there was something surprisingly wonderful about someone doting on me that way. I felt perfect and precious when he rubbed cream into my skin or frowned over a bite mark he’d left on my inner thigh. I felt like I’d been waiting a very long time for someone who knew how to shatter me and also wanted to pick up all the pieces. And I felt an unpleasant sense of relief in discovering that person was my husband.
