Patricia
Something is strange with Dior this morning. I can't put my finger on what is wrong with him, but those usual butterflies aren't there in my stomach when our gazes meet across the table. The mate-bond is strong and stirring, zapping between us like chemical electricity, but it's like my heart isn't entirely sold by Dior this morning.
I'm aware this isn't good. My emotions worry me. An hour ago, I was ready to consider completing the mating ritual with Dior, and now I'm glad I didn't let him anywhere close to my neck.
Does this mean my feelings for him aren't strong as I first thought since I'm already changing my mind about things? Nothing is making sense right now. I had s*x with Dior this morning—how can my flutters be gone and over with already? Oh, god, I can only pray I'm
