. . . . . .
I sigh, and blink up at him but he doesn't stir.
Carefully, I push myself up and lean in to watch him sleep for a long
while.
He looks younger in his sleep, less serious, less
intense, less dangerous. He looks vulnerable even.
Do you have any idea what you do to me? How
much I want you.
I trace the tip of my finger lightly down his stubbled
jaw.
I'm not going to let you go. I'm going to hold you
forever.
“You can't,” I whisper sadly.
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