I'll never recover if he breaks my heart. ~Brooke

I wanted a girl as perfect as Brooke, and instead, she gave me something I never knew I wanted: something perfect that looks like me.

His eyes glow in the shadows as he slides the soft liquid semen dripping down my thigh in a path leading back into my swollen entry, as if he doesn't want to come out of my body. "Sticky?" he asks in a gruff murmur, bending his head and licking my shoulder as he pushes his semen back inside with one finger.

Remington Tate, I swear to you—I swear—that when I’m able to get up from this stupid bed and run again, you’re always, always, going to be the one thing I’ll run straight to.

By the time those electric blue eyes seek me out in the stands, my heart throbs fiercely in my temples, and my insides bubble with emotion when he spots me. He stares straight into my eyes, and his eyes are only mine, and his smile is only mine, and for this fraction of an instant, nothing else matters but us.

You tie me up in knots. I want to play you a thousand different songs so you can get a clue of what... I feel inside me.

It feels like he's marking me. Like he's preparing me for something monumental. That could both change and ruin my life.