Him.
Emma, Emma, Emma.
Oh, Emma, my light.
Our first night was not planned, nor was it anything like a night after a romantic dinner of sorts. Our first is much better than that. There was vulnerability, a deep understanding of each other and then at the base of it all was love.
I meant it when I said I didn’t care for her scars— embarrassingly, my attention was on her exposed breasts. I doubt she realized that not only was she showing me her past but also… but also her entire delicious body.
Scars are scars. I have plenty of them, each carrying their own story. She has hers and it does not ruin any of her beauty. If not for the awful way it was put there, the scars added to her allure for me. The need to protect her, the need to make sure it never happens again and how I am finally
