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Side note: the world would be a slightly better place if men would stop calling their spouses wifey.
tbh
“I’ve always been a good shot.” Both with my dick and pistol.
jaw dropped
He was, after all, my protector. The man who taught me so much about myself. The man who made me laugh. Who made me live again. Who made love to me, when I’d thought I would perish under the touch of another.
Hallie turns away, just as Anthony swivels toward me. He fingers the hem of my blazer, where my skin meets the fabric. “What’s that?” Before I can answer, he pulls the blazer up, just enough to make the sliver of ink peeking from my tux reveal itself into a full-blown sleeve. “She needed one hundred and fifty tattoos under her belt for her internship,” I say. “And you decided all of them would be done on you?” Anthony chuckles. “Not all.” I smirk. “But most.”
AHHH SCREAMING
