I knew what he wanted. What he always wants from me: to know that I'm aware and I'm choosing and I'm one hundred percent committed, to him, to life, to myself, to the moment, which doesn't sound like so much but it's a damn tall order. And he wants his name in that sentence somewhere.
I tossed my head and shot him a savage look. Fuck me, Jericho Barrons. You're my world, I didn't add. At least I hope I didn't. I let my lids flutter at the end, half closed, shielding my heart.
~ Feverborn by Karen Marie Moning