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★・・・・・・★
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"I might not love you now, Ashley, but I'm utterly obsessed with you. The four days you didn't talk to me were like hell. You've become my habit, my addiction, and I'm not sure I can leave because, 'The way your lips tempt me, it's a forbidden craving I can't resist.' The taste of your skin is the only salvation from the abyss that is my desire for you."
His words echoed in my mind, and I stared at him, teary-eyed. He said he might not love me now, and that meant there was potential for love in the future. The realization left me in a whirlwind of emotions. Was it possible that this complicated arrangement could turn into something more?
He kissed my forehead gently, wiping away the tears that lingered. The tenderness of his touch surprised me, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions.
He slowly slid my dress up, not in a provocative manner, but with a sense of care. It was as if he wanted to shield me from the world, protect me from the uncertainties that lay ahead.
Pulling me into his embrace, he hugged me tightly, as if afraid I might slip away. The intensity of his hold conveyed a silent promise, a reassurance that in that moment, we were bound by something deeper than the complexities of our arrangement.
"If you ever have any doubts or anything that bothers you, you can tell me everything. I will listen to it," he said, his hand gently caressing my back.
I sobbed, unsure of how to express the doubts that consumed me. How could I tell him that I felt inadequate, that I believed I wasn't the perfect woman he deserved?
He deserves a strong beautiful woman.
I am a insecure bitch that cry over everything. That gets scared of every thing .
He continued, "Why are you crying now, Ashley? Stop crying."
His words struck a chord. Did it truly hurt him to see me cry? Nobody had ever cared enough to notice my tears, and here he was, expressing concern for my emotions.
