I’d want to have sex with myself. All the time.

A small part of her secretly hoped she caught him in bed. But that really was a very small part. The bigger part hoped he was in the shower.

I’d want to have sex with myself. All the time.

He felt his heart roll, exposing its underbelly. Nothing he could do about that. He was equipped to eliminate threats, protect and serve. Not to love. Never to love.

Looking at him, she saw her future and felt all the ragged tears in her heart heal themselves. "I fit," she whispered in marvel, stepping into him. "I fit with you." He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. "Perfectly."

Men are like roses. You have to watch out for the pricks.

He can cook and give good massages. What more do you need in a husband?