"I love seeing you look at me that way, love," he whispers hoarsely. "I want to worship you, Quinn Scott." scoot closer, out obviously not close enough since he hauls me even closer and cradles my face tenderly in his hands. "You are fucking perfect, Quinn. You have always been perfect. I love every single goddamn inch of your curves. You hear me?" His eyes hold mine, and I can see the promises in them. The sincerity.