Aria
“There’s going to be some rules.” His hand brushes my unruly waves down the back of my head, his eyes holding mine. His hands grip the fleshy part of my hips, the bone a little more pronounced than it was a week ago. Amazing how much weight I’ll lose when I stop stress eating and avoid the kitchen.
“Rules? You want to re-word that?” I lift my eyebrows at him, letting him know how exasperated he makes me.
His glare back holds his steel determination. It’s clear I’ve run out of time and excuses to hold back the brunt of his anger and fear. It’s time to have the conversation I’ve been afraid to have.
A part of me is nervous that this is it, that maybe we just fell into our comfortable pattern of passion when our emotions are to
