O'Reilly," he murmured. "He'd be fuckin' crazy not to want you there. Every day. Every night."

Against my arm, his heart thumped.

"He'd be stupid not to want to wake up to your wicked green eyes. Those eyes that make him feel like he's paid his dues. Like he's finally finished with living off God's fucking redemption crumbs.

Autore: Mel Bossa