You called me a natural con artist and asked me what other secrets I was hiding. I didn't answer because I already knew, in some deep, primal way, what furtive truth you were referring to: That I was destined to fall in love with you.

I am trying to come up with some "adult" reads, but I mostly read young adult fiction (my job), which, by the way is excellent. I will post about some of my favorites that should appeal to adult readers

I love you, too." But this hopeful farewell does little to bring peace of mind, even now. Loving you has never been the problem. What's troubling me is how loving you may never be enough.

You don't have to agree with me, but I think the heart of who we are stays pretty much the same," Hope said, "What changes is how those core traits manifest themselves over time.

What are your thoughts?' 'My thoughts?' I replied, before I even realized what I was saying. 'My thoughts created my world.' Mac sat up in his seat. He scrunched his curls with his hands, perplexed. 'Who said that?' I told him the truth. 'Oh, just someone I used to know,' I said, stroking the naked skin on my middle finger.

It just makes me wonder what subject you blame for talking to me every night.' I'm still settling on an answer for that one. Probably Chemistry. Jesus Christ. I can't believe I just wrote that.

And now, as I'm lying alone in my own bed, I keep thinking about writhing against him last night, naked and vulnerable. Even after we'd both risen and fallen, peaked and plummeted, even after Marcus was physically shrinking from inside me, I couldn't stop clutching, crying, trying. Trying to pull him deeper, deeper, deeper within. Trying to make him more a part of me than I am myself.