Life is never simple.
Even perfect couples face storms.
The question is whether our love is strong enough to survive.
I believe it is.
She told me to leave.
If I leave, I take her with me.
~Stuart Knight
~ Stuart ~
“Stuart!” Mariska’s desperate plea snaps me from the sudden To-Do list scrolling through my brain.
I focus on her gorgeous sunset eyes now round and filled with tears. Why the fuck is she crying? My brow clutches.
Her sweet voice trembles. “I know it’s not how we planned it, and I know you like to be in charge of everything—”
What the hell? “Stop.” My voice is stern. I grab her beautiful face and kiss her hard. How can she not know how many times I’ve pictured this moment?
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve held her sexy body in my arms and tried to imagine her pregnant. Last year when we first met, even through the sickness of withdrawal, I had a whisper of this moment in my mind.
Holding her now, her slim body is fused against me. Her arms are surprisingly strong around my neck, and I slide my hands up and down her back until I feel the tension begin to subside. Why was she afraid to tell me?
Sometimes my beautiful bride reminds me of a wild horse when it first arrives on the ranch. Its thoughts are scattered and wild, and I have to spend extra time reassuring it it’s in a safe place...
“Stuart!” Mariska’s desperate plea snaps me from the sudden To-Do list scrolling through my brain.
I focus on her gorgeous sunset eyes now round and filled with tears. Why the fuck is she crying? My brow clutches.
Her sweet voice trembles. “I know it’s not how we planned it, and I know you like to be in charge of everything—”
What the hell? “Stop.” My voice is stern. I grab her beautiful face and kiss her hard. How can she not know how many times I’ve pictured this moment?
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve held her sexy body in my arms and tried to imagine her pregnant. Last year when we first met, even through the sickness of withdrawal, I had a whisper of this moment in my mind.
Holding her now, her slim body is fused against me. Her arms are surprisingly strong around my neck, and I slide my hands up and down her back until I feel the tension begin to subside. Why was she afraid to tell me?
Sometimes my beautiful bride reminds me of a wild horse when it first arrives on the ranch. Its thoughts are scattered and wild, and I have to spend extra time reassuring it it’s in a safe place...
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