“You could do that, couldn’t you? Find out everything about me?”
“I could. But I won’t, Pixie.” A quick press of my lips to hers is not
nearly enough, but it soothes me until I can get more. “I need you to give your
secret to me, to carry, to heal with you.”
She shakes her head and bites her lips as her eyes fill with tears. “It
can’t be healed, Fin.” Her chin wobbles, and each word is tight with emotion.
“Don’t think you can fix me, because you can’t. I’m flawed. It can’t be
erased.”
God, my girl. “You’re killing me, Marguerite. I don’t mean physically. I
don’t care what perceived physical flaw you’re hiding. I’m talking about the
scars you carry on the inside. The ones that make you doubt your worth. Make
you think you have to be the happiest person in the room. You don’t, baby. You
just have to be you. And when you’re ready, you give me your secret. Let me
love you and carry it until you believe enough to stop hiding.”
“Holy nutcrackers,” she whispers. “You’re like every dream I ever had
except way better, way hotter, way sexier, way sweeter in every way.”
“Sweet?” I chuckle. “No one has ever called me sweet.”
“But you are.” She leans back, drying her face. “You are sweet to me. You
may give the world buttoned-up-in-control Fin, but you are tender and thoughtful
with me. Your calm crumbles for me.” She placates me with a heated kiss that
ends too abruptly. “I like you sweet and undone. Give the world what you want,
but give me everything else.”
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