V

“A loud smack startles me and I pull back, but it doesn’t phase him. It was the book. He cast it to the floor so he could grasp my waist with firm fingers. He dives for my neck, layering searing kisses to my surging pulse. “I feel compelled to tell you that I hate you,” I breathe as he bites and sucks on my skin. I start tugging the collar of his jacket off. “Just like I hate your leather satchel and your hideous tweed jacket that looks like it came from the hipster reject pile. If I could feel secondhand embarrassment for anyone, I would feel it for you.” Kaplan’s dark laugh heats my skin as he nips my earlobe and a moan escapes my lips. “Good. I’ll wear it every fucking day. I’ll even sew suede patches on the elbows.”
― Brynne Weaver, Black Sheep