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How I’m managing to keep myself from dropping to one knee, and demanding for her hand in marriage, is beyond me.
“Please don’t cry, Baby Cakes.” The pressure of his hand on my back increases. “I can’t take you crying.”
I’m sorry for making you cry. I know you don’t know a thing about me, but I’m pretty sure I’m half in love with you and I’d rather die than make you cry again.
“Fuck it,” he growls, a brief moment before his mouth closes on mine.
My teeth catch her lower lip before licking the bite away. “You’re the star on top of my tree.” I kiss her again. “I’m incomplete without you.”
“Good girls get sweet things. Naughty girls get it rough. And you’ve been very naughty.”
