“Don’t pull away,” she murmurs against my lips, hands still glued to my face to keep me from moving. “Don’t ask me if I’m okay because I’m not. But I don’t want to feel it, Chris. I don’t want to feel any of this. I just want to feel you.” How can I deny her anything? The short answer, the laughably simple response, to that question is: I can’t. The list of things I wouldn’t give her, wouldn’t do for her is nonexistent. She can ask me for anything, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I won’t be able to rest until she has it.
