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“Stand down, big guy. I’m not interested.” “Of course, you’re not,” I deadpan, lips twitching as I rake a hand through my hair. “I’m your boyfriend.”
“Amelia?” “Hm?” She continues gazing at the sky, absentmindedly stroking my thigh. “I love you.”
He is so fucking perfect. So patient with me always. Kind but firm. Sweet yet so fucking nasty at the same time. Loving. He listens to me. He knows me. He loves me. I don’t deserve him, I really don’t. I don’t deserve to love him, but fuck I do. I’m scared. I am so fucking tired of being scared.
“I love you, Nicolas.” In a moment that I don’t think I’ll ever forget as long as I live, Nick breaks out in the most breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen. “Thank fucking God.”
He looks so fucking happy that it makes me happy because I’m the one making him smile like that. I’m the reason his eyes are lit up like two golden stars. He loves me, he fucking loves me, and I love him.
“Careful, querida,” he warns, voice throaty and gruff. “Wouldn’t want to bruise that perfect fucking ass of yours. That's my job.”
“He started it.” Manchild. “Elaborate a little, love.”
