“Why do men pretend that they're not in pain when they clearly are?" "Because we don't like being fussed over," he answers with a small smile. "See, that's the strange part about it," I say, cupping my latte. "Men love being fussed over. I've never heard so much whining as when a man is sick." A gleam of challenge lights his eyes. "You're missing the key factor." Macon sets his cup on the table. A bit of creamy foam clings to the corner of his lip, and he licks it away with the tip of his tongue. "We only do that when we expect our women to kiss and cuddle us, then tuck us into bed." I blame the steam from my latte for the hot tightness over my cheeks.”
Book:Dear Enemy