My mother’s tennis group gave it to me as a gift when I finished college. I did love it . . . but oh well.
He frowns as he looks down at the embroidered letters, and I take it from him and wrap it around his neck to cover the huge purple bruise. I smirk as I look at it. I didn’t even know how to give a hickey. I must have really been in the moment.
“What does the F stand for?” he asks.
“f**k bunny.” I smile to cover my disappointment. I don’t want him to know that his last comment upset me.
He chuckles and grabs me roughly into his arms and walks me back toward the bed.
“What an apt description that is.”
He takes my leg and wraps it around his waist, and we share one last lingering kiss.
“Goodbye, my beautiful f**k bunny,” he whispers.
I run my fingers through his hair as I stare a
