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“Could always sleep in my bed. I’ll protect you.” “Dream on.” “Believe me, querida, I will.”
And when he murmurs, “I just gotta hold you for a sec,” in a quiet, calm, honest voice, that feels pretty freaking perilous too.
“Sometimes, I find it hard to look at you,” he murmurs, “because you’re so fucking beautiful I can’t think.”
“No one else,” he murmurs, the scissoring of his fingers inside of me almost frantic. “Just me and you, querida.”
“You’re gonna fight someone for staring at my ass?” “Querida, I wanna fight people for staring at your face.”

