The ardeur allowed, sometimes, a glimpse into another heart, or at least their libido. That place inside me where Richard had been meant to fit, to fill, was empty, but not empty like a wound. I was so tired I was nauseous. That won't make you one of them.
I stared into those eyes, that face, and I whispered, Yes. I'm thirty, and I've never been this happy with anyone. I'd crushed his heart, and no matter how many times Dracula might rise in old movies, Oliver was well and truly dead. Primo simply was mine, no, ours.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.