Because I want her.
Now.
Here.
Everywhere.
I want nothing between us.
I want her clothes off and the lights on and I want to study her. I want to unzip her out of this dress and take my time with every inch of her.

You’re perfect,” I tell him, so overcome I forget myself. “All of you. Your entire body.
Proportionally. Symmetrically. You’re absurdly, mathematically perfect. It doesn’t even make sense
that a person could look like you,

I loved making you mad," he says to me, his eyes wicked. "I love making you mad.

Don't do that," he says. "Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to. Twice I've laid myself bare to you and all it's gotten me was a bullet wound and a broken heart. Don't torture me," he says, meeting my eyes again.
"It's a cruel thing to do, even to someone like me.

In just two days, one girl has managed to cripple me.

This girl is destroying me.