Текст книги "Affliction"
Автор книги: River Savage
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Holly
“So, what are you doing today?” Sy asks, stretching out his booted feet on my coffee table. I want to tell him to get his feet off my furniture, and that it’s rude to wear his shoes in my apartment, but seeing them on my coffee table stirs a different emotion in me instead.
“Nothing much,” I answer, sitting back and forcing myself not to say anything about the shoes. Today isn’t the first time he’s just shown up. It’s the third time this week, to be exact, and the tenth time in the last three weeks. I’ve been counting. Normally he shows up for a reason, dropping in after dinner, or to bring me one of my favorite juices, but this morning he had no reason. ‘Just wanted to come by,’ he said before walking in and making himself at home. I was only half mortified that I was still in my pajamas; at least I had on a matching pair.
“What have you got going on?” I ask, enjoying these comfortable moments between us where I don’t have to pretend. Between the dinners, lunches, gym workouts and the quiet nights between us, a real friendship is forming. One I don’t want to lose. I think he feels the same way. I mean, why else would he keep turning up?
“I was thinking of going for a ride.” He picks up the remote, flicking through the channels and then settling on some shark show. “Wanna come?”
“Where are you going?” A ride on Sy’s bike? That’s hardly a chore.
“Babe, you don’t ask, you just ride.” He shakes his head like I’ve got no clue. I try not to let the word babe affect me, but for some stupid hormonal reason, the silly female tendencies in me see it as something else.
“Um, Sy?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
“Yeah?” he answers, still looking at the TV.
“What are we doing?” Shut up, Holly, my brain is screaming at me.
“Watching TV,” he answers.
“I can see that, but what’s happening here?” I ask carefully, unsure how to address it. I know we said we wouldn’t label it, but things are changing, and I need to know so I can keep up.
“Holly, what are you really asking?” He turns to face me.
“Well, you keep turning up, our dinners, then the gym and now rides? I’m not sure what’s happening between us,” I rush out, yet at the same time wishing I never said anything in the first place.
“What do you need to know?” He smiles, freaking me out more.
“Well, one, why are you suddenly smiling? And two, what’s going on with us?”
“I’m smiling cause you’re acting all cute, and I didn’t realize how fucking adorable you could look in pajamas with your hair up like that,” he says, sitting back still staring. “And to answer your question, what’s happening? We’re just two friends hanging out on a Sunday morning, so relax,” he says, turning back to the television.
“Well, I’m glad we sorted that out,” I grumble. His response tells me nothing I don’t already know, and at the same time disappoints me.
“Me too, babe,” he agrees, still watching the TV screen. Seriously, this man is so strange that I don’t know what the hell to do with him.
“And I don’t look cute in these pajamas,” I add, annoyed he said that. I look anything but cute.
“You’re right, you don’t look cute.” His comment confuses me, before I see the side of his mouth curve into one of his sexy smiles. “You look sexy as fuck.” He turns, giving me his eyes. “And if you keep giving me attitude, this friendship will get weird,” he adds and I have to physically work through the lump that’s formed in my throat. My mouth snaps closed, shocked he just threw that in there. I blink once, twice and still don’t know how to respond.
“Breathe, Holly,” he instructs, but who needs to breathe when one is having an out of body experience. I finally draw in a sharp breath at his command. “Jesus, girl., if I knew your blush ran that deep, I would have tried to embarrass you sooner,” he chuckles, shaking his head.
“What are you talking about?” I finally get past the small shock. I know I asked, but I wasn’t expecting that.
“Baby, you really want to talk about this today? You ready for it?”
“I don’t really know what it is,” I admit.
“It is this,” he says, reaching and slightly touching my hand.
The warmth of his skin against my hand sends tingles up my arm, like a jolt of lust running through my veins. The electricity in the air pulls me into his space. The tip of his tongue peeks out over his lips and his hooded eyes watch my mouth as I stare at him. “You feel that?” he rasps, and I nod, feeling it all the way through me from the tip of my nose to the bottoms of my toes.
“That’s what we need to talk about. You ready for that?” he gently asks, while slowly drawing circles over my skin. I nod, not listening to my screaming heart yelling at me that it’s not ready. My stomach drops at that all-encompassing encounter of totally surrendering to the feeling, to an emotion, to this man.
“Holly, I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. The words caress my skin like the heat of a fire on a chilly night, and my eyes close at the heaviness of what is about to happen. The emptiness of my heart is long forgotten as I balance on the edge of what this man can give me. It’s like he awakens something in me, and as my body hums in anticipation of feeling his lips, there’s no chance I can put it back to sleep.
“Hurry,” the word slips from my mouth just as the roughness of his lips touch mine. I’m expecting something more, something as urgent as what I’m feeling, but it’s a soft, yet deadly touch. My body moulds into his, like our simple connection gives me permission to relax. Deepening the kiss, my hands move to his chest, gripping the front of his leather cut. The rhythm of my heart beats out of time as I close my eyes and become lost in the taste of him on my tongue, and the feel of the leather between my fingers. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man that tasted so good, and now that I have, I know I’ll never be able to forget it. Leaning into me, we fall back, and instead of fighting it, I find myself leading. My hands pull him closer toward me in a desperate move to keep him from pulling away.
“Holly,” he whispers against my lips, but I don’t stop. My body is disorientated from the feeling of something other than pain.
“Holly,” he tries again.
“Hmmmm,” I hum against him, but I don’t give him a chance to reply when my mouth takes over the kiss. The taste of this man is like a drug that I’ve been craving, a drug that will fix a little bit of the broken inside of me.
“Holly,” he rasps out, speaking more firmly this time. He pulls back and breaks the connection. My eyes open and I look up at him with hooded lids. Holy shit, what just came over me?
“Sweetheart,” he sweetly says, sitting back on his haunches.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, trying to push past him to run and hide my embarrassment.
“Holly, stop,” he growls. His tone doesn’t stop me, but his hold on my wrist does.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” I rush out, insecure at being pinned down by his stare.
“Do what?”
“Kiss you like that. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I told you I was going to kiss you.”
“Well, yes, but then I completely lost control,” I admit. He smirks, like the idea of me losing control is funny.
“Babe, that was you losing control?”
“Well, if you hadn’t stopped me, I would have probably started humping your leg or something.”
“Humping my leg?”
“Most definitely humping. I may have even started panting,” I joke, and for the first time in months, I laugh at myself. He doesn’t respond and I cringe internally as embarrassment fills me. Just shut up, Holly.
“Did you actually laugh?” he finally asks, taking my chin in his hand, forcing my face to look up at him.
“Umm, yeah?” I pull back, but his hold on my face doesn’t falter. “I’ve laughed before, Sy,” I comment, not understanding the issue.
“You may have laughed before, but Holly, not one of those pathetic half-assed laughs has been real. Haven't heard the real thing in a long fucking time,” he says as a small smile slowly breaks out over his handsome face.
“You missed my laugh?”
“I miss a lot of things, Holly. Some so significant I wouldn’t even know where to begin, but your laugh, the sound of your happiness is something that makes all those significant things hurt a little less.”
The fact this man could be as broken as I am makes our connection solidify.
“You want to leave for that ride?” he asks, leaning back into my space, the smell of mint on his breath reminding me of his addictive taste.
“Not now,” I tell him, letting the pull of his scent drag me in closer.
“Good,” he says, crashing his lips to mine, this time harder. I whimper as his tongue demands entrance. Long gone is the gentleness from before. Now taking my mouth is the same man who took me hard and fast on the floor of my apartment months ago. We’re immersed in kissing, touching and heavy breathing, and it’s the most incredible feeling in the world.
“Holly,” Sy breathes, coming up for air as he lightly kisses along my jaw and down to my neck.
“Yeah?” I manage to say, reaching for his shirt as each connection of our lips pulls me further under his spell.
“I’m not going to fuck you. Not now, ‘cause this is not what this is about,” he says in-between each kiss, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. Fuck, I want to,” he groans, taking my hand and bringing it to his hardness that's covered in denim. “Believe me, I want to strip you out of these sexy-as-fuck pajamas, and worship every inch of this fucking milky skin, but I can’t,” he growls into my neck when I groan in frustration. “Don’t do that, baby. It’s only going to make this harder.” He pulls back to look at me. “I didn’t start this to go there. I just needed to kiss you.”
“Okay.” A combination of relief and frustration fills me. “So you just want to be friends who kiss?” I ask, trying to get my head around this. I hold back my internal mantra pleading him to say no.
“Fuck no. I want you to be my woman and I want to fuck you so hard that you won’t ever want to be anyone else’s,” he rumbles, making my body yearn for more. “But I also know you’ve got shit going on and I’m not gonna push you.” His thumb traces my bruised lips, his top teeth biting down on his bottom lip when I let my tongue peek out.
“Holly,” he warns, resting our foreheads together.
“Okay,” I agree, knowing this is what we need, what I need. My body might want to move to the next step, but my heart knows that whatever is happening can’t be rushed.
“I don’t want to fuck this up, Holly. So for now, dinners, kissing and when I’m not kissing you, I’ll take you on a ride. But if you ever tell the boys, shit will get serious,” he warns and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. Sy joking, kissing and teasing me is not what I ever expected from him. It might not be wise to let him give me this light when I'm still holding so much back, but I’ve been surrounded by darkness for so long that the small glimmer of hope he offers shines so brightly. I can't help but pray I can find a way out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sy
I’ll be over at 5pm.
I read my text again for the fifth time before I decide to send it. Fuck it. If it’s coming on too strong, she’ll just have to deal with it.
After spending the day on the bike with Holly last Sunday, I dropped her home and went back to the clubhouse. I threw a few back with the boys and then crawled into bed, replaying the whole day over in my mind. I had no intention at all to drop in to see her, but before I knew it, I made my way to her place and was knocking on her door. I had no idea that our morning would end up the way it did. I knew going into this with Holly that it would be a slow burn, not something like we had in the beginning and I was okay with that. It's not what I want. I want to sink myself inside of her, but fuck me, after that kiss, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I don’t want to rush her; whatever she decides she needs, I’m ready to do. It’s been a long time since I’ve let a woman affect me like this, or given this much away. I know I’m entering new territory, something I never thought I’d see myself doing again, but there is something about her that makes me want to try again. I know one day, if this continues, I’ll need to tell her about my past, let her in on what I live with, but even the thought of letting her in doesn’t sound so bad.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jesse says, looking back over his shoulder to watch me set up my station.
“Shut the fuck up and turn around,” I tell him, pocketing my phone, gloving up and trying to get Holly out of my head. The asshole is in for ink and I’ll be fucked if I’m going to sit around sharing stories.
“Who the fuck you texting? Never seen you look at your phone so much,” he states, turning back around.
“No one,” I tell him, cleaning the area I’m about to work on. I’m not about to tell him about Holly. The asshole will be all over that.
“Didn’t look like no one.”
“Jesse, shut the fuck up.”
“Whatever, they’ll soon realize what an asshole you are,” he laughs, but I don’t. Holly already knows I’m an asshole.
“Why the fuck are you in such a good mood this morning?” I ask him, checking the placement and making sure it’s even.
“Aww, man. Bagged this chick last night in the back room of Liquid. So freakin’ tight,” he groans, remembering the moment.
“Jesus, Jesse, I don’t want to know about that shit,” I scold. Jesse is the biggest fucking whore. I sometimes worry about his manhood. “I hope you’re fucking wrapping that shit up.”
“Always, brother, always,” he laughs, resting back.
“How’s that?” I ask, checking the placement on his ribs. This design he’s had me working on for the last few weeks will eventually be huge. Starting from the top of his ribs, down his side and around to his back; each and every detail of the drawing is a significant moment to him. I don’t ask questions. I just draw up his design. In this case, I tidied up Jesse’s design. I didn’t expect to learn he had hand-drawn the sketch he handed me a few weeks back himself.
“Fucking A,” he says, standing in front of the mirror. “Let's do this,” he insists, coming to lie back down on his side.
“You at Liquid tonight?” I ask, settling in for the two-hour job. This is the only place you’ll ever find me seeking out pointless conversation. The sound of my ink gun buzzing, and dull, monotonous talk—there is something about it that calms my mind.
“Yeah, girls have their party tomorrow night. Need to sort that shit out,” he says, revealing one bit of the puzzle Holly has been hiding.
“They’re having it there?”
“Yeah, fucking stripper and all.”
What the fuck? Like hell is some fucker gonna swing his dick in Holly’s face.
“Does Nix know this?” I look up, pissed he would even be okay with this shit.
“I don’t think he does. Was going to talk to him about it tonight,” he says, looking down at the needle.
“Can’t see him being all right about it,” I put out there as I go back to tattooing Jesse’s side.
“I’m betting he won’t be, but he’s whipped so who fucking knows what he’s gonna do.”
“I say we cancel that shit. Some asshole swinging his dick in his old lady’s face… the picture alone will have him coming out of his skin,” Jesse laughs, moving too much for me to keep going. I don’t know about Nix, but the picture has me seeing fucking red.
“Or we could call in new talent,” he grins and I can already tell I’m going to like the idea that’s running through his head.
“What sort of new talent?”
“The sort that will piss them off, and make for a good fucking laugh.”
“Let’s do it,” I agree, not needing to think on it. Holly isn’t seeing some other guy’s cock when she only needs to see mine.
“Wanna run it by the Prez?” Jesse suggests, reaching for his cell.
“Fuck no, just do it,” I order. Nix will agree anyway. This way his hands are clean.
“Holly’s going to shit a brick,” he warns, searching his phone for the contact. She probably will, but I’d rather a pissed off Holly than a turned on one. If anyone is making her wet, it’s gonna be me. I don’t say that to Jesse, just continue tattooing his ribs while he makes the call. As of tomorrow, I know I’m in deep shit, but I can’t help the smile forming from just thinking about it.
***
“What’s happening at this bachelorette party?” I ask her later that day from my position on her sofa. As soon as I arrived at hers, I made myself comfortable and have been firmly fixed on my back while she reads.
“We’re just going to Liquid. Why?” she asks suspiciously, looking over her book at me. Her eyes narrow when I don’t respond.
“Anything else I need to know about?” I finally ask.
“Nope,” she smiles, going back to her book. Even if I didn’t know she was lying for sure, the guilt plastered all over her face is a dead-set give away.
“What the fuck are you reading anyway?” I ask, annoyed she isn’t giving me her attention.
“Just something Kadence left behind.” She goes back to reading. Her lips move as she reads, making her even cuter.
“Is this one of her porn books?” I lean forward and pull it out of her hands. I’ve heard Nix talk about these smut books she reads. He told us one night it was just pure porn.
“Sy, give it back.” She jumps up, trying to pry it out of my hands.
I keep her at arm’s distance and read aloud from the book. “He allowed his molten juices to intermingle with hers,” I read over her screaming. “What the actual fuck, Holly?” I ask, trying to hold her off as I read some more. She climbs onto me, her ass right in my lap, but I can’t even think about that now.
“Give it back, now!” she demands, but I don’t; instead, I read aloud, “Plunging into her glistening moistness.”
“Sy,” she screams, snatching it out of my hands before I can finish.
“What the fuck are you reading that shit for?” I ask, concerned she’s being brainwashed. Molten juices?
“It was just lying around. I picked it up one day,” she tells me, trying to move off me, but I hold her in my lap, enjoying her sitting there. “It’s not just about sex,” she adds, trying to defend it, but I can see her blush.
“What’s it about then?” I ask, running my hands up the back of her dress, loving the feel of her under my hands.
“Umm, it’s about this guy who gets run over,” she explains, arching her back into the feeling of my hands lazily stroking her soft skin.
“Go on,” I encourage, watching her stumble.
“He … umm …” She pauses. “He was—” She breaks again, too lost in my touch. “You’re distracting me,” she complains, dropping her head to the side. Her soft, pale skin looks delicious. I lean forward and gently kiss her before lightly nipping at the area.
“What are you doing?” She whimpers at my touch.
“Kissing you,” I say in-between caresses.
“You are a good kisser,” she admits, bringing her hands up to my neck, pushing me into it.
“What have you got planned for tomorrow night?” I ask, trying to distract her.
“I’m not telling you,” she breathes out heavily, not falling for my interrogation tactics. My hands move to her strap, as my heartbeat picks up at the anticipation of pushing her to the next step. I want more than anything to strip her naked and feast on her, but I know she’s still shaky; the last thing I want to do is scare her. My fingers fumble over the thin strap, releasing it from her shoulder. She looks down at me, but I don’t let her look stop me. Following on, I work on the second strap. She pulls back, looking down at me, lust evident in her eyes.
“What are we doing?” she whispers, unsure, but I can’t grasp if she’s shutting this down, or just needs to understand what it is I’m asking for.
“I want to see you,” I admit, knowing I want more, but willing to take whatever I can get. She takes a shaky breath before bringing her hands around her. Releasing the zip, her dress falls to her waist revealing her perfectly round breasts. Fuck. I had forgotten how perfect she is. The pink tips of her nipples stand erect, begging me to lick them, take them between my fingers and pull. Even though I’m trying to control this, having them in my face is just too much. My hand comes up, lightly grazing the side of her breast, skimming over the nipple.
“Sy,” she breathes, arching once again at my touch. I’m on the edge of control. I don’t know how to do slow, or be gentle when it comes to her. The need to claim this woman is strong, but then I succumb to the need to protect her, my brain reminding me of my priorities and Holly’s fragile state.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I admit, leaning forward and taking her nipple in my mouth. Her body responds, her nipples sensitive and responsive. My dick strains in its position, begging me to let him free, but this isn’t about me. This is about Holly.
“More,” she implores, pulling my head to her breast. Her body rolls against mine, her pussy hitting the tip of my cock with each movement. “I need more, Sy,” she begs in a crazed state.
“What do you need, baby?” I look up, searching her face for what she needs.
“You,” she whispers, peering down at me. Her cheeks flush with arousal, her lips glisten.
“You’ve got me,” I say, kissing her nipple again.
“No, Sy, I need you.” She takes my head and forces me to look up at her.
“How bad do you need me? ‘Cause, baby, I’m ready as soon as you are, but fuck, once I start, there is no stopping me,” I warn. I know right now if she says stop, I’ll be able to walk away, but once I get her under me, there will be no stopping.
She looks down at me. Her panic is laced in arousal, telling me this is moving too fast for her.
“Let me take care of you,” I say, running my hand down her side then sliding up her dress.
“Just me?” she questions when my finger finds her prize.
“Just you, baby,” I confirm, letting her off the hook.
“What about you?” Her question comes out breathy as my finger moves through her wetness.
“I just want to see you come apart,” I tell her, meaning every word. As much as I want to take her right now, show her just how much the last few weeks have affected me, I don’t want her retreating.
“When I take you, Holly—and I will—there will be no questioning of if you want that. Do you understand me?” I ask as my fingers slide into her tight heat. She doesn’t reply, her head now lost in the feelings my fingers are drawing out of her. I forgot how responsive she can be. I feel her tighten around my fingers, her greedy pussy milking my hand for all it’s worth.
“Do you understand me?” I ask again, ensuring she’s on the same page.
“Yes,” she hazily replies.
“Yes, what?” I challenge, hooking my fingers to find her G-spot.
“When you fuck me—which you will—I’m going to want it, Sy.” She forces out shallow breaths as her hands come to my shoulders.
“Good, girl. Now, ride my fingers like you would my cock,” I command, watching her do as she’s told and build herself to the crest.
Fucking A, I don’t know how I’m going to survive this shit.
***
Her hair smells like cinnamon and hot apples. I remember the smell from the first time I met her. Cinnamon, and hot apples; the smell that makes me hungry for warm pie in one moment, and then makes me hungry for her in the next.
“Sy?”
“Yeah, baby,” I reply, pushing her hair off her neck to lean in and kiss the soft skin.
“Did you just smell my hair?” she asks, her voice sounding sluggish from sleep. After I made her come with my fingers, her body was spent, so I carried her to her room and told her to rest. I know I’m entering dangerous territory being in her bed. Even having her close when I’m on the edge is not good news, but I know this is what she needs.
“I love the smell of it,” I tell her, not caring if I sound like a fucker for it. “I’m liking your hair getting longer, too,” I admit. I was fucking pissed when she cut it off. I loved her hair when I first met her.
“What is it with you and my hair?”
“I think you’re beautiful any way you wear it, but do you remember that night you walked into my shop? You strode in wearing that short fucking dress, and those fuck-me heels. Any guy in a one-mile radius would have had a hard on for you. Hell, you had me hard, even with all of that attitude you were throwin’ around.” I laugh when she pinches me. “But it was your long hair shining under those fluorescent lights that had me.” I wrap my finger around the now shorter strands.
“I’m growing it again,” she whispers, turning to face me.
“Don’t do it for me. Have it however you want it. Like I said, you’re beautiful no matter what. I just miss having something to hold on to,” I joke as I remember when I pulled it at her apartment.
“I needed to feel like I wasn’t that person anymore, that scared woman who lost herself in that old barn.” She looks at me, her eyes showing the truth to her statement. “It was my way of controlling it. It sounds lame and maybe it is, but cutting it off was therapy for me.”
“I get that,” I murmur, running a finger along her collarbone.
“You do?” she asks, seeming shocked for a moment before coming up on her elbow.
“Yeah, why do you think my body is covered with these?” I run my hand up my inked arm.
“You’re hiding.” It’s barely a question, more of a statement.
“I’ve always been hiding, Holly.” I admit the cold truth. I’ve been alone for a long time, unsure if I would ever want to let anyone in. It didn’t even occur to me I’ve spent all this time trying to get her to let me in that I don’t know how to do it myself. I know I need to tell her; tell her about Keira, and about the past which has shaped me into the man I am now, but how do you tell something like that to the woman you’re falling for? Allowing a person to see the hurt I wear on my skin, or what lives in my heart, is something I don’t ever give freely. Miraculously, she has been able to bring something out in me I buried a long time ago. Underneath all the anger and pain that follows me around, I feel something I haven’t felt in such a long time: peace.
“You don’t have to hide with me, Sy,” she says and I believe her. I really do. I just don’t know how to tell her.
“I like being in your bed. I should be in it more often,” I tell her as I kiss her softly.
“You should stay the night,” she says, and even if she hadn’t suggested it, I wouldn’t have left. Not with the smell of her still on my fingers.
“Your brother's not planning to come in tonight, is he?” I ask, hoping she says no. Even if he doesn't live here, he has a key and calls in frequently. I've managed to avoid him, but knowing our luck, he turns up the night I stay.
“No, he's staying at my parents’ house tonight. He and Dad have an early fishing trip. Don't worry. We're safe,” she jokes. “My poor mom will be up sending them off with a packed lunch,” she laughs, picturing it.
“Your mom and dad seem close,” I say, watching her smile.
“They are,” she nods. She doesn't need to tell me she likes that a lot. “If I ever get married, I hope after thirty years, I’m still happy like them,” she says. “What about you? Are your parents still married?” she asks me. Jesus, tonight is the night for home truths.
“My dad died three years ago and my mom walked out on us when I was ten,” I tell her. She sits up, shocked at my story.
“Oh, God, Sy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She looks uncomfortable, but there’s no need for it.
“Don’t be. My father was a drunk all my life. He was a member of Knights Rebels MC and thought he was a god.” I shake my head, remembering what sort of man he was.
“Wow, so your dad was in the club when Red was president?” she asks.
“Yeah, I grew up with Nix and Beau. I was a few years behind them so I didn’t go to school with them, but at club get-togethers and family shit, we would hang out,” I reply, thinking back to the shit the boys used to get up to.
“Is that how you joined the club?”
“Fuck no. I left the moment I could. Didn’t want anything to do with my old man or the club. He didn’t care when I left. We never had that relationship and I wasn’t interested in trying. I only came back when he was dying. The club had pulled their shit together by then. Nix was Prez, and he took me in. Didn’t think I wanted in, but after spending the last few months with my dad, seeing how the club looked out for him in the final days, it just kinda happened.” I leave out the part that I really had nothing to go back to and the thought of joining a family when I had just lost mine was more than I could hope for.
“And you don’t know where your mom is?”
“I tried searching for her when Pops died, but couldn't find her,” I explain. My mom didn't want to be found.
“That sucks, Sy. I’m sorry.” She goes back to lying on me.
“Nothing to be sorry about, Holly. I just didn’t have the same experience as you.” I lean forward and kiss the top of her head.
“I wish you did,” she whispers, but I don't reply, because for a while in my life, I did. I slept next to the woman I called my wife for ten years. I planned to grow old with her. Then I found out she wasn't who I thought she was. Far from it.
“Come on, baby. Let’s sleep before I take those sexy pajamas off and do things that I know you’re not ready for,” I tell her, watching her blush.
“I wish I was ready,” she says. As do I, but I know deep down the moment she is, it sure will be worth the wait.
