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“Trust me, They want you. They want what's mine." He pulls me against him, and I lift my arms to his shoulders, my hands in his hair, regarding him with amusement. "Mine," he repeats, his eyes glowing possessively. "Yes, yours." I reassure him, smiling.” — E.L. James
Trust me, They want you. They want what's mine." He pulls me against him, and I lift my arms to his shoulders, my hands in his hair, regarding him with amusement.
"Mine," he repeats, his eyes glowing possessively.
"Yes, yours." I reassure him, smiling.