“my hero,” she mumbles playfully in response, though does curl her fingers into the too-long sleeves. the very inside of the cuffs already slick with rain that had managed to blow it’s way inside. watching him carefully, as if somehow, that would teach her how to . . .
did. to be able to see this look on someone’s face when they bit into something she’d created with her hands and her heart. to know that there was something warm and lovely attached. maybe a memory, maybe just the flavor or the comfort of a home-baked treat.
“good . . .
there’s a quiet scoff as he tugs his head away, a grin pulling over her face. tongue tracing her lower lip before her teeth sink into it. the warmth of his hand comforting, soothing the thundering pace of her heart.
“i know that,” she breathes with a shake of her head, . . .
“and tell me at least one good thing, before you go on about how sticky the floor was at the bar.”
a gentle tease, nudging her hip against his. quiet laugh tumbling from her lips, leaning her head against his shoulder. inhaling his all too familiar scent, nuzzling her . . .
how would you feel if i said i made your life worse? which, i’m not entirely convinced i haven’t in tying you down with a child that isn’t yours, but that’s beside the point.















